


Only One of You In this World

by americanphancakes



Series: Fur Elise [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: A grown woman who doesn't know wtf she wants, ADHD, Adulting, Advice, Angst, Anxiety, Because there are adults in the phandom too, But younger people can probably appreciate the story as well, Divorce, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Gen, Grown-ups get crushes too, Male-Female Friendship, Panic Attacks, Relationship Advice, Romantic Friendship, Sex with laughing involved because that's what love looks like, Therapy, mentions of past emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 06:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 61,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11983779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanphancakes/pseuds/americanphancakes
Summary: Dan bonds with an introvert he meets at a party he didn't want to go to in the first place. They become fast friends, and despite living on opposite sides of the ocean, their friendship deepens. She's a happily married woman with a case of ADHD that manifests chiefly in forgetfulness, impulse control problems, and lack of follow-through; and Dan provides advice and perspective that she greatly needs. He's also falling in love with her and has to push those feelings away, so that's fun.





	1. Don't Talk To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Ages of people in the phandom is a topic that's been coming up a lot lately, with the over-18 crowd feeling rather underrepresented and at times attacked. I wanted to make a fic that appeals to any fan, but is mostly geared towards us grown-ups (we read fanfic too, after all!). I wanted to write a story about Dan being there for someone dealing with issues that come up in adult life, like after university age. (If you're worried that anything like that may trigger you, turn back now. But if I say any more, it'll give away too many future plot points.) Alright then, here goes...

You just… showed up. You invaded my personal space, basically - and I know, the idea of a personal “bubble” is fucking ridiculous but you invaded mine, okay? I was perfectly content, holding my drink (pretending to drink it), looking at my phone, avoiding the undulating mass of socializing chatter-monkeys that was the party in front of me. Back to the wall, feeling safe, all that.

 

And then… you.

 

You leaned against the same wall, slid down until your arse hit the ottoman that conveniently existed to my right, sighed loudly, and then - and THEN - you had the nerve to fucking speak!

 

“Do you hate parties as much as I do?”

 

My "back to the wall" policy doesn't help when it's the _back_ of my jacket that has the words "Don't talk to me" embroidered on it, I realized. I furrowed my brow and just kind of stared at you, my lip curled slightly, giving you a silent “what the fuck?” But then you looked at me and I felt the need to relax my face and pretend like I hadn’t already decided I hated you.

 

I replied with a flat “...yes.”

 

You smirked, apparently understanding that my “yes” included you, too. You were part of the party after all.

 

“You wanna leave?”

 

 _Who the fuck even ARE you?!_ “I would, but my friend is in there and… you know, dick move and all that.”

 

“Fair enough. My sister is in there too. She’s proof positive that the extrovert is always the successful one in a family with two kids.”

 

“Your sister’s a YouTuber?” _why do I even care about this person I swear to god_

 

“Yeah. Not a huge following, but Hank Green tweeted out a link to her channel a few months ago so her numbers are climbing pretty quick.”

 

I chuckled a bit. “Yeah, that’ll do it.” I sipped my drink.

 

“So yeah being here is a reminder of how much of a failure I am and, on top of being fairly anti-party, I’m also feeling bad about myself right now so.” You looked down with a mirthless laugh, and then brought your eyes back up to meet mine. “I’m sorry, I’m treating you like a therapist.”

 

“No worries,” I replied with a genuine smile. You looked like you needed it, and I certainly wasn’t all that interested in talking anyway so I thought I may as well listen. Although I must admit, the fact that you stopped here and didn’t continue complaining about being overshadowed by your sister might be what led to us becoming friends as opposed to me politely ducking out of the conversation entirely.

 

“What are you drinking?” you asked instead.

 

“I dunno, some fruity tropical thing.”

 

“I could go for something fruity. Not into the tropical stuff though. Coconut is not my favorite thing.” You walked in front of me and stood by the small bar to my left. It was a shiny blue beacon of hope in this corner of the warmly (and barely) lit ballroom.

 

“What’s wrong with coconut?” I cringe looking back at this moment now. I sounded whiny.

 

“You can’t qualify something like that,” you explained. “I’ve just always hated coconut. I can taste the tiniest amount of coconut oil hidden in anything, I can smell it from a mile away, I can’t stand it. My senses treat it like it’s poison, I don’t know why.”

 

“You poor deprived person!” I laughed.

 

“You crazy people can have your coconut! You should be happy. Me not liking it just means more for you. Where the fuck is the guy who was manning the bar?” You just tacked that last question onto your rant as though it were part of it. It was seamless. You seemed like one of those people whose brain went too fast for their mouths to keep up, not unlike Phil.

 

Apparently psychically hearing his cue, the bartender walked up and asked what he could get you. You ordered a cherry vodka sour. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted something fruity.

 

We continued talking, the alcohol beating our asocial sides into oblivion just for the sake of one another. I was surprised to learn that you were a bit older than Phil ( _what is your skin care routine I have to know_ ). I talked about my YouTube channels, which you were only slightly familiar with at that point. You talked about your career in “user experience design” (whatever that was - sounded like web design to me, but your drink made it hard for you to explain the difference). I talked about my recent rebranding, feeling rather self-conscious now about my Photoshop “skills” because you’d apparently started using the program when you were literally a toddler. Your parents had both been in the “desktop publishing” industry when you were a kid ( _honestly were these ever really actual jobs? What do these terms even MEAN?_ ), and now your dad was a painter whose work had been in magazines. Your sister, meanwhile, had been making videos with your home video camera since you were kids, editing anime music videos in iMovie later on, so YouTube was a natural step for her.

 

I hadn’t felt this comfortable talking to a new person in years, honestly. Your life confused me and you were clearly older but you were just so much fun to listen to. I didn’t even notice the party had begun to thin out until Phil walked up an hour later.

 

“There you are!” he said happily. “Who’s your friend?”

 

“Oh, uh…” I hadn’t gotten your name, so I sighed with relief when you reached your hand out to Phil.

 

“I’m Elise,” you said.

 

“Phil,” he replied, taking your hand. He looked down at your feet. “I love your socks!”

 

It was then that I noticed you were wearing a pair of mismatched knee-highs - one that looked like a Dalek and the other with a Ravenclaw pattern on it. You laughed and gleefully explained to Phil that you had no matching pairs clean, so you just threw a pile of socks into your suitcase. He said that he could relate (lying, of course, he wears mismatched socks on purpose) and showed you his own socks - one with a corgi pattern, the other decorated to resemble pizza.

 

Starting to feel a bit territorial, I interrupted Phil before you could start braiding each other’s hair or something.

 

“We really ought to get going,” I told you, “we have a couple of collabs we’re shooting tomorrow so we need sleep. But it was awesome talking to a fellow hater of cool handshakes!”

 

“Absolutely! Here…” You pulled out a business card and handed it to me. I laughed as soon as I looked down.

 

“‘Irrelevant peasant’? You listed your job title as ‘Irrelevant Peasant’??”

 

You smiled at me. “I designed those specifically for this trip to VidCon. Because here, that’s what I am - just a fangirl who’s tagging along with her sister. This badge says 'all access,' but I’m nobody. So I figured I’d make that clear enough on my card, since the badge doesn’t say it.”

 

I gave a crooked smile, suddenly feeling for you in a major way.

 

“Anyway,” you continued, “that’s got my Skype, YouTube username, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram, you know… all the basics. So you can contact me howev-- oh, wait!”

 

You took the card out of my hand, grabbed a Sharpie out of your purse, and wrote your e-mail address on the back. I noticed you were right-handed, which was slightly unexpected considering the fact that you and your whole family were some kind of creative professional. “I kept my e-mail off of here because I don’t have like a professional one or anything, but yeah. You’re cool, you can e-mail me.”

 

You smiled and handed the business card back to me with your left hand. The ring on your finger caught the light from the bar.

 

You’d spent ages talking about your family. You never once mentioned a husband or wife. But apparently… yeah.

 

My smile dropped, but I raised my eyebrows in order to keep the brightness from leaving my face entirely.

 

You smiled at me warmly, and… you know, maybe it couldn’t be anything romantic, but I was still really eager to contact you again.

 

“It was great meeting you, Dan. I’ll be sure to marathon your videos later!”

 

You shook my hand, smiled, and let go.

 

***

 

“So!” Phil said, pushing the “15” button in the elevator.

 

“So…?” My hands in my pockets, I raised an eyebrow at Phil.

 

“So what’s the deal with this ‘Elise’?” he asked.

 

“She’s a person…?” I pretended I didn’t know what Phil was talking about.

 

“A person you were making heart eyes at!” he said playfully. Apparently he hadn’t noticed the ring either.

 

“No I wasn’t, she’s married. And besides, she just invaded my personal space and started talking. Rude.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that she’s married. I actually watched you for a few minutes before coming over..."

 

I glared at Phil. "Invasion of privacy, you creepy perv stalker!"

 

"I didn’t want to interrupt! You were smiling a LOT.”

 

I smiled bashfully and shook my head. “You’re reading too much into it, Phil.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Phil raised his eyebrows, still probing for more juicy details.

 

“We were just having a good time, drinking and talking, nothing more to it.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

The elevator opened and we walked to our hotel room door, Phil glancing at me knowingly at least 3 times before we got inside the room.

 

“What??” I finally said.

 

“You’re going to send her a Facebook request as soon as we get inside, aren’t you?”

 

“...No.” I lied.

 

***

 

Daniel Howell:

hey its me from the party

 

Elise Ludwig:

Hey you! ;) Didn’t think you’d send me a request so quickly. I feel so loved!

 

Daniel Howell:

lol sorry if it makes me look desperate  
ps dont tell phil i sent you this request so soon, he was teasing me about you

 

Elise Ludwig:

LOL… well, sorry to disappoint him, but I’m married. No romantic interest here.  
Now, would I TOTALLY bang you if I wasn’t married though? Yes. You are quite cute.

 

Daniel Howell:

youre still drunk arent you

 

Elise Ludwig:

Not “still.” “Again.” I am drunk again.

 

Daniel Howell:

lol why

 

Elise Ludwig:

Because drinking is how I escape my problems and I have a lot of problems so that means a lot of drinks!! :D

 

Daniel Howell:

dont drink too much! tell me your problems and I will help you work through them. youre too important to damage yourself like that

 

Elise Ludwig:

Dan…  
You know what, nevermind. XD I was about to embarrass myself.

 

Daniel Howell:

you already did by making an xd face lol

 

Elise Ludwig:

What’s wrong with the XD face??  
You young’uns and your RULES. I can’t keep up with what’s cool and what’s not anymore. Yeesh.

 

Daniel Howell:

get off my back old woman

 

Elise Ludwig:

GET OFF MY LAWN YOU MILLENNIALS lol

 

Daniel Howell:

so are you gonna tell me what’s up or are you ok for tonight?

 

Elise Ludwig:

I’m ok for tonight. I’m not getting another drink after this, I feel better cuz you contacted me so fast tbh. It does a lot for a girl’s sense of self-worth to know someone gives a shit, you know?

 

Daniel Howell:

does a lot for a guy’s sense of self-worth too  
im confused about why tf youd be so happy that i contacted you asap but it does make me feel pretty good abt myself

 

Elise Ludwig:

Sounds like you have the same sorts of issues I do.  
Let me know if you ever need to talk it out. I feel like I owe ya.

 

Daniel Howell:

im sure Phil will be around for that if I need it, but if he ever isnt ill let you know.

 

Elise Ludwig:

Boooo I don’t wanna be Phil’s understudy. I wanna be Elise to you. Maybe one day you’ll need me for something that you can’t get from anyone else.

 

Daniel Howell:

im sure itll happen. theres only one of you in the world after all.

 

Elise Ludwig:

I know this sounds silly but that might be the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's chapter 1! Please do leave comments, this is my first work on AO3 and my first fanfic in about 10 years. I want to see speculation, I want to see guesses, I want to see interpretations... I want to be a better writer, so make me a better writer!


	2. "Minna Honmono"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise and Dan are now separated by miles of ocean, but Dan is still able to give Elise some very needed advice.

It’s really weird, honestly. When you’re in the same town as another person, and you’re talking on Facebook or Skype or something, you don’t really notice the physical distance between you. You could be in the next room or a million miles away, but you don’t really care either way. It doesn’t faze you.

 

But then when me & Phil were back in London and you were back home in Texas, I could really feel that distance. We hadn’t seen each other in person since the party despite both being in California, and I was fine with that at the time. But once we had a whole freaking ocean in between us, the distance was palpable. Nothing had changed about how we interacted, it just felt different.

 

On Skype one night - well, night for me, evening for you - I mentioned that to you.

 

“It is weird!” you agreed. “There’s just like this mood that changes. Like the thread that’s tying us together is somehow stretched way farther.”

 

“Are you saying it’s like, more tense or something?” 

 

“No,” you sang. “Just harder to keep it from breaking, really.”

 

I frowned a bit. “We have the internet though,” I suggested helpfully.

 

“Ugh, I wish Facebook were a cure-all for this. Even with the internet I’m just awful at keeping in touch with people.”

 

“Doesn’t seem like we’re having too hard a time right now.”

 

“Well yeah, but that’s because you’re still shiny.”

 

I laughed. “I’m what??”

 

“Shiny! You’re sparkly and new and interesting and honestly you pull my attention away from other things I should be paying attention to.”

 

“I’m a distraction?” I had a hard time comprehending this. I’m just some bloke. Brown hair and brown eyes and dull beige everything else.

 

“Yeah.” You left it at that. You weren’t looking at me on the screen anymore. It looked like you were fiddling with something on your desk.

 

“Hey…” I offered. You finally looked at me again. “You okay?”

 

“I guess.”

 

At some point, you had internalized the fact that I was distracting you, and a massive fog suddenly came over you. Your entire being seemed to darken, as though you had begun to hide yourself. Even from yourself.

 

“Elise, is it your husband that I’m distracting you from?”

 

I meant the question in earnest, but you laughed - a genuine laugh, not a mask over the truth this time. “No, goodness no. I mean, he’s less than happy that my laundry isn’t sorted, and that the dishes weren’t unloaded even though it’s my day to take care of that. But that sort of thing… it’s nothing he’s not used to. I’m not the most responsible person. He knew what he was getting into when he married me. But I still feel bad about that stuff, you know?”

 

“In your mind are you a responsible person?”

 

“What?” You looked so confused by that question. You looked at me as though I’d suddenly turned green.

 

“Well, when you think about your definition of ‘yourself,’ do you consider yourself responsible? Do you try to be responsible?”

 

“Yeah, absolutely. I fail pretty miserably though. I can tell myself ‘Elise, do the thing!’ but my body just can’t seem to do any of it. I don’t know why. It’s like I’m spinning plates and they keep breaking. Everyone else seems to spin them just fine, but not me. Like they got lessons on how to do it and I missed them or something.”

 

I nodded. “Yeah… I can kinda relate. I mean I feel like I got the basics of adulting figured out eventually, but it was like everyone around me figured it out sooner. My first group of friends at university could all cook, but meanwhile I burned pasta because I didn’t even know you needed water to make it.”

 

The bright, cheerful laugh that came out of my computer speakers made me feel simultaneously delighted and humiliated. “Yes yes,” I said. “Let’s all laugh at the man who invented spaghetti charcoal.”

 

That just made you laugh harder. “I’m sorry,” you barely managed to choke out before finally breathing more properly, “but that makes me feel MUCH better about my inability to pay bills on time unless they’re on auto-pay.”

 

You got a few more chuckles out. I continued. “But in all seriousness, like… the closer I get to showing the outside world who I am on the inside, the happier I get. When I was pretending to be something I wasn’t, and when my habits weren’t yet a reflection of who I considered myself to be, I was really badly depressed.”

 

You nodded, understanding what I was getting at. “So basically I’m a pouty, weepy mess because I’m not what people see when they meet me?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Yeah but that’s good advice for someone who’s deliberately pretending to be someone they’re not,” you said, your hopelessness coming out in another wave of that foggy darkness I’d seen earlier. “What about someone who’s trying? ‘Cause I’m trying. Really hard.”

 

“Maybe you’re just taking on too much. Too many plates.”

 

“Maybe.” You perked your head up, turned your head to your right and yelled “Be there in a second!” Then you turned back to me. “Gotta go! My husband is putting on this Destiny lore video. You play Destiny?”

 

“No, haven’t yet.”

 

“It’s fun. I’m horrible at shooters usually but I think Destiny is fun. This and the new Doom are pretty much it for me, everything else is too slow-moving.” You gave a self-deprecating chortle. Clearly the speed at which you felt compelled to move through life wasn't something you were happy about. I couldn't really relate - I would have loved to move with super speed like Sonic the Hedgehog or something. But it seemed like all you wanted was for your own batteries to run down. “Anyway, I’m off before you distract me more.”

 

“Happy to distract you anytime, Leese.”

 

“Bye, Dan!”

 

“Bye.”

 

Skype made that weird squishing chime sound to signify that you’d hung up, and I leaned back. I stared deeply into the space under my monitor, realizing that you probably needed to see a therapist or something but that it was far from my place to say anything so presumptuous to you directly.

 

I’d learned that you were a people-pleaser, which was one of the reasons you enjoyed talking to me. You didn’t have to try and please me, that we were two of the same quirky kind. You said my videos made you feel less alone, and that you didn’t have to pretend that you didn’t talk to yourself, that you didn’t hate interacting with other people, that you didn’t feel envious for reasons that made no sense. You also disclosed that you were such a perfectionist that it stopped you from doing things you would love to do. Your anxiety about presenting other than perfection was literally crippling you.

 

And the more I heard about your mindset, the more I wanted to give you a hug and tell you everything was going to be fine. Which was the one thing I couldn’t fucking do from London.

 

***

 

I’d let my butt sink comfortably into the crease it had worn into our sofa over time. This spot was literally meant for me. I felt at home here, browsing Reddit and Tumblr often for an entire day. But today, Phil reminded me that I had to actually earn a living.    
  
“Dan, you have to film your Tinder video.”   
  
I moaned theatrically.

 

“Come on, Dan! You have a deadline.”   
  
Sometimes you gotta get out of your comfort zone to get paid. So I did. Begrudgingly.

 

Of all things, I had to advertise a freaking dating app! It made me feel dirty. Dating apps are, in my opinion, the only worse way to find a date than actually talking to other people.

 

Given my recent conversation with you, though, I had a pretty good concept in mind: The way we present ourselves to other people. I mean, we’re constantly pretending we’re someone other than what we are, whether it’s on YouTube or during a job interview or when we’re dating. I began to wonder if anyone would date the real me if they knew as much about me as you and Phil did. So that was the concept I went with for the video.

 

Once it was done, edited, and uploaded, I sent you the link. After you watched it, you told me that once again, I’d made you feel less alone. 

 

That meant a lot to me. It was something I used to hear from my viewers more often, but these days I don’t get to hear it so much. 

 

So you made me feel less alone, too.


	3. Breaker of Spinning Plates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan is scared of what will happen if he brings up his concerns about Elise's mental health.

“Phil, how do you tell someone that you think they need to see a therapist?”

 

Phil’s head snapped backward ever so slightly, as though the question gave his brain a slight jump-scare. “That seems like kind of a mean thing to say, doesn’t it?”

 

“It does!” I nodded, my eyes narrow but my eyebrows relaxed. “But think about that - why do we think of it as a mean thing to say? There’s nothing wrong with needing help, you know? Like, it wouldn’t be rude to tell someone ‘yeah, you should probably see an oncologist’ if they told you their body had all these weird quirks that were consistent with cancer.”

 

“Well I don’t know, some people might take that pretty badly!” Phil laughed. Couldn’t deny that, to be honest.

 

I smiled. “Yeah, maybe… but you’d probably be a bad friend if you knew someone was hurt and you didn’t recommend medical attention. Right?”

 

“True. I know if you were impaled or something, I’d risk you hating me forever to make sure you saw a doctor. It’d be worth it to know you’re alive, even if you never spoke to me again.” God, what a fucking ray of sunshine. Sometimes I hate how much of a huggable teddy bear he is. And sometimes I hate that he’s right.

 

“Thanks, Phil.”

 

***

 

I couldn’t get what Phil said out of my mind. You certainly weren’t impaled or anything, but I know how dangerous it could be for your depression to get worse. The friendship was new enough that if you decided never to speak to me again, it wouldn’t be a huge upheaval for me yet. So I took your mental health seriously and said what I needed to say to you the next time we talked.

 

You didn’t take it well. You hung up on me. I felt embarrassed, mad at myself, and worried about you for about five more hours. I’ll spare you the details about what kinds of thoughts went through my head, but you can probably guess.

 

At about 4 AM, I was about to go to bed when I heard Skype’s “incoming call” sound. I looked at the screen, saw your name and picture, and hesitated before slowly moving my mouse pointer over the bright green “answer” button, inhaling deeply, and clicking.

 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice tiny and almost incomprehensible. “I shouldn’t have hung up on you. That was rude of me.” You looked down guiltily.

 

“Are you okay?” was the first thing I could think to say. It was the first thing I thought I needed to make sure of, after all.

 

“Yeah. I talked to my husband. Told him what you said, and… he’s actually been looking into some of my issues too, which I didn’t know.”

 

“Yeah?” I hope I sounded optimistic rather than righteous here.

 

“Yeah, he um… he said that what my brain does and what I do and how I’m feeling is apparently really consistent with ADHD.”

 

I thought about everything I knew about ADHD, and some of it seemed to match up. I didn’t know nearly enough about it to make any sort of amateur diagnosis, though.

 

“What do you think?” I asked you.

 

“I was insulted at first, of course. Like, ADHD is for hyper little boys, you know? But the more he talked about it, the more it made sense. Like I don’t see time the way most people do, I have a hard time prioritizing… I daydream a lot, which is apparently more common in girls. Like I’m not physically hyperactive but my brain is… y’know.” You cut into a mocking falsetto to add an illustrative “Whooo!” to the end of your sentence.

 

“Are you gonna look into it? Like… see a professional?”

 

“Yeah,” you said with a resolute tone. “Dan, seriously, you have no idea how much I hate myself sometimes.” You started crying, trying not to make a big show of it because you had more to say. “And on top of it I’m a grown fucking woman. I feel like a teenager who never grew out of her emo phase. I’m so afraid of dying someday and having a ton of unfinished projects & unrealized ambitions left behind. All the work and all the trying I’ve been doing will have been for nothing, and I’m so scared of that. I’m scared of losing friends because I just forget to talk to them, I’m scared of having a kid and forgetting their birthday someday, I’m scared of getting so messy that my husband can’t stand to be around me anymore, I’m scared that I’ll get mad at someone and put my foot in my mouth so badly that I hurt them and they never speak to me again, I’m scared--“   
  
I interrupted you. “Hey, hey - Elise, listen.”   
  
You looked right at the camera, not at me, your tense face giving away your frustration. I could see tears overflowing from your eyes, as plain as day. “What.”   
  
“Sadness isn’t exclusive to teenagers, so get that out of your mind. Everyone feels sad. And everyone has every right to.”

 

You blinked away your tears upon hearing this. You looked down at your screen.

 

I continued. “Your worries are completely legitimate. But if you see someone about this, if you get an ADHD diagnosis, then you can start addressing those worries and maybe someday they won’t be there to bother you. And you’ll be able to be yourself. Like really be yourself.”

 

“But what if it’s not ADHD?” you wondered aloud. “What if this is just what kind of person I am?”

 

“It’s not,” I stated. “In your mind you’re responsible, remember? Maybe you need help prioritizing, maybe you need help budgeting your time. But you’re not a breaker of plates, Elise. I know you well enough to know that.”

 

You smiled a little, and I felt a weight lift off my chest. I didn’t even realize it had been there. For the first time in hours - maybe days - I felt sure that you were going to be okay.

 

“Thanks, Dan.”

 

I smiled back.

 

***

 

Phil was, quite frankly, adorably concerned about you over the next few days. You were still posting on Facebook, just random silly mundane things and reposts of memes, but we hadn’t heard if you’d seen a doctor yet. So every day, it was just “Have you heard from Elise yet?” “No, not yet” repeatedly. At least 3 or 4 times a day. 

 

Until I finally heard from you again. 

 

Phil and I were editing in the gaming room when you Skyped us. I had gotten up to make a couple glasses of Ribena, so I wasn’t in the room when the “incoming call” sound played.

 

“DandandandanDAN!” Phil cried excitedly just as I was headed back to the room. “It’s Elise!”

 

“Well answer it, you spork!” I called from the hallway.

 

He did as I commanded and I heard him say “Hi Elise, it’s Phil!”

 

“Yes, Phil,” you giggled. “I can see that!” That made me laugh.

 

I sat down next to my excited companion, putting our drinks down. You continued. “How’ve you been?”

 

“Oh, you know me!” Phil answered.

 

“Actually I don’t - I’ve really only watched Dan’s videos and a few of the game videos you’ve done together. I haven’t seen much of you, to be honest.”

 

You sounded genuinely apologetic, but Phil gave a cartoonish pout anyway.

 

“Oh don’t you do that!” you laughed. “I’ll watch your videos soon, I promise!”

 

“Okay, I’m making the choice to believe you!” Phil said, smiling. “So how have you been? Oh-- wait, did you want to talk to Dan alone?”

 

“No, you can totally stay! We’re all friends here.”

 

I cut in. “Did you talk to a doctor?”

 

“Yeah, I had an appointment yesterday. I had to do some weird videogamey tests that apparently showed that I don’t have ADHD, but…”

 

I made a nondescript noise of dissatisfaction.

 

“BUT! But. The doctor looked at my self-report questionnaire and ones that I had my husband & my mom complete, and he said ADHD looked not only likely, but pretty severe.”

 

“Oh wow. THey put that much weight on the questionnaire?”

 

“Yeah. ADHD is apparently hard to diagnose without something like an fMRI, and tests like the one I took are often so novel that the results are inconclusive at best. Cuz people with ADHD like novel things, you know? So anecdotal evidence is apparently best.”

 

“Weird!”

 

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, He prescribed me some medication and today was my first day on it, and… you guys.”

 

“Yeah?” me and Phil said in unison.

 

You made big eyes. “This shit. Is a GAME-CHANGER.”

 

I laughed. “What’s it like?”

 

You looked up as if waiting for the right description to fall from the heavens. “It’s like… Like my brain was a messy playroom, toys everywhere, I kept forgetting I even had certain things, you know? And then about an hour after I took this medication, it was like Mary Poppins had come in and tidied up the whole place. I knew where to find everything, stuff was all arranged into nice even lines. There’s as much there as there ever was, but now it’s all properly indexed and catalogued and organized and I can find all of it.”

 

“Wow.” Phil said. “I wish our apartment would do that!”

 

“Maybe if you didn’t leave socks in the living room…” I said with a playfully accusing tone.

 

You laughed at our bickering. I had more questions though.

 

“So like… is it making you get more stuff done? Like are you more able to stick to the stuff you want to do?”

 

“Yeah,” you sighed, “but my doctor said that’s part of the initial ‘euphoria’ state of using the medication.” You fidgeted with something on your desk, out of frame. “He said that’ll wear off and that I should use this time to figure out a system to keep my time & stuff as organized as my brain now is. That way it’ll be easier to get through times when I’m not medicated or after the meds wear off.”

 

“That makes sense.”

 

“In the meantime I literally learned JavaScript today. So that’s something!”

 

“Oh are you gonna like color code things?” Phil suddenly asked, slightly delayed. We both just stared at him. “What? I like color coding. It puts the fun in functional!”

 

You smiled. “You know, Phil, you sometimes seem very dreamy and disconnected, but there’s wisdom in your Luna Lovegood-esque madness.”

 

“You will NOT be surprised by any of my videos if you’re already making that assessment about me.”

 

“I look forward to it then!”

 

“We do have to finish editing the new gaming video though,” Phil said apologetically. He was always better at gracefully ending conversations than me.

 

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you away from work!” you said, with no hint of feeling rejected or embarrassed. If this was you on medication, I was delighted to see it. You just seemed so… happy.

 

“Not at all!” Phil said. “I can have Dan Skype you when we’re done though.”

 

I looked to you for confirmation on that. “Elise?”

 

“Oh yeah,” you said, “absolutely! What’s it called when you want to vent, but you’re happy instead of angry?"

 

I thought for a second. “I guess it’s technically still venting?”

 

“Well whatever it is, I wanna do that!” You laughed, and there was a sparkle that had never been there before. "Don't worry," you added, "I'll be awake. This medication is making me want to clean my entire office tonight instead of sleeping." With a shared laugh, we said our goodbyes and hung up.

 

I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself for telling you to see someone, but I was so mad at myself for almost not saying anything. I had been so selfishly afraid of the outcome, and yet here you were... shining in this brilliant but very normal-looking way. Like a full moon. Just... also covered in diamonds.  


 

I couldn't help but wonder if the way you appeared to me was anything like the "shiny" I apparently was to you.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally have ADHD, and was diagnosed as an adult, so Elise's struggles are rather personal to me. ADHD is different from person to person, so please don't take Elise's symptoms as the ONLY way ADHD manifests. If you suspect you may have ADHD, I highly recommend doing as much research as possible to learn about the different subtypes, comorbid conditions (like depression and anxiety), and success stories of people who have it. I don't want anyone to go through what I did if they don't have to.


	4. Time Better Spent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise talks to Dan about a frustrating work situation and a past ex who was emotionally abusive. Dan now has a clearer picture of Elise's self-esteem issues, and brings Phil in to help coach her through getting past them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Elise talks frankly about things her ex said and did that might disturb readers who've suffered emotional or verbal abuse. It's a very brief scene, and focused more on her feelings than detailed descriptions of what happened, but I figured I'd warn you guys.

“Uuuggghhhh.” you grumbled, your voice distorted by its volume.

 

I laughed. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Okay so here’s the thing with websites. People expect them to work on multiple screens, right? Like everything from your phone to a 4k monitor, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“So I tell my clients, I don’t believe in reducing functionality on the mobile version, cuz that defeats the purpose. I might rearrange stuff to make particularly mobile-friendly things only one click off the home page, sure, but on the mobile version, you can do all the same stuff and most of it is in the same place. You follow so far?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“So this client. This FUCKING client.” You closed your eyes, tightened your lips into a straight line, and inhaled noisily. “This client wants their site COMPLETELY rebuilt for mobile. Like… they don’t even want the mobile thing to be the same site as the desktop site.”

 

“Why in the hell would they want that?”

 

“Beats me. But they didn’t pay me enough to do that, so I’ve had to negotiate with them” -- you said “negotiate” in a mocking tone -- “about how much more it’ll cost them, and how much I can get them to compromise to reduce the amount of work. And they aren’t budging. In fact, they’re holding a week of pay hostage right now, even though the agreement was that they’d pay me for that week after I gave them the desktop version, which I did!”

 

“What the fuck?”   
  
“Yeah. And I charge $90 an hour right now, so. I’m now missing a decent chunk of money, but it’s not a big enough amount that taking them to court is worth the legal expenses. So I’m SOL. I’m so mad at them I can barely see straight.”

 

“Well.. at least this time if a bill is late it won’t be because you forgot!”

 

I worried for a moment that my feeble attempt to lighten the mood was perhaps an overstep, that the joke was a bit too insensitive, but to my relief you smiled brightly. 

 

“Funny you should say that! My bills are paid already. I’m getting - and completing! - enough work that I’m still fine, even missing a week of pay.”

 

In the months since beginning ADHD medication, you’d gone through quite a bit of trial and error to find the exact right dose, and for the last three weeks you’d been going steady on 50 milligrams of Vyvanse (which, much to your annoyance, I kept calling “Elvanse” because that’s its name here in England. And much of the rest of Europe. Because as usual, America had to go and be weird about naming something).

 

You’d lost about 5 pounds without trying because your medication made you not want to eat, and when you did eat, you had the self-control to not eat “like an asshole” (your words). You mentioned to me that your weight had always been a source of frustration for you, so you were delighted to see this happen.

 

“Well… you said yourself that you don’t desperately need that last week of pay…” I thought aloud, “why not just fire this client?”

 

You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head a bit. “I mean… maybe? I hadn’t thought of doing that.”

 

“Look, you do really good work. You deserve better than clients who saddle you with a ton of extra work that they didn’t pay for. You don’t need them, you need clients who understand that web design isn’t magic and they hired you for a reason. Sure, you could be spending all this time fighting with them, or you could spend it looking for a better client who’s more clear about what they need right at the start.”

 

“You make a very good point. I’m really worried about burning bridges though…”

 

“That’s your people-pleasing talking, Leese.”

 

“I know, I know…”

 

“Just be polite, let them know that you don’t think this is going to work out, but you hope they like the not-mobile version that you’ve already delivered or whatever. I’ve made videos with people who seemed to HATE me at the time but then later on they’d be talking about what a good time they had, they hope to work with me again, and they’d recommend me to other people. So don’t even worry about it. People will like who they like, and they’ll hate who they hate. Whether these guys talk ill or well of you behind the scenes isn’t really up to you in the end. You just gotta do the best you can within reason to keep things peaceful. But YOU need to put yourself first.”

 

“How are you so wise? You’re like… a kid.”

 

I laughed. I often forgot about our age difference.

 

“How are you so ridiculously hard on yourself?” I countered. “You’re like… fantastic.”

 

“Awwww, nicely done there, Howell. You could have gotten all defensive and you turned it around on me. Good job subverting my expectations!”

 

“I’m a millennial, that’s what we do. Literally everything must be ironic or original at all times, that’s the rule.”

 

“Then how do you explain all the unoriginal YouTubers?” you pondered aloud. Then, you made big eyes, and added jokingly, “Oh my god that’s the irony!”

 

“There it is right there,” I said with a wink.

 

“Well, I have been doing my best to contribute to fixing that problem,” you segued. “Remember how my sister is a youtuber?”

 

“Of course! We wouldn’t have met without her.”

 

“Well guess what?”

 

“What?”

 

“Look at the chat.”

 

I looked and you’d sent a link to a YouTube video so I clicked. I saw you and your sister on the screen. I smiled. “What is this?” I asked.

 

“Just watch it!”

 

The video was a storytime style vlog intercut with short sketch scenes of you, your sister, and a man I didn’t know acting out parts of the story. You were talking about how awkward it was to meet YouTubers as a non-YouTuber, using me as an example. Apparently you were quite embarrassed about asking if I wanted to leave the party with you.

 

The story was witty and colorful and hilarious, and when I saw the channel name - Elise Ludwig - I hit the subscribe button immediately.

 

“And I am subscribed!” I announced. “Congrats, you have a fan already.” I clapped. You laughed.

 

“Oh, stop it. You don’t have to patronize me.” You smiled, but I could tell you didn’t really believe that you deserved for anyone to like your video.

 

“No, it was actually good!”

 

“Really?” you said nervously. “My sister came into town for a weekend about a month ago, so we grabbed my crappy camcorder and just filmed a thing. It really did take me a month to edit it, sadly, but I do have more ideas, so. I mean, it probably won’t ever be my job but I wanted to do a fun hobby just for myself, to express myself and practice something new, and… you kinda inspired me?” You raised your voice gradually at the end, almost to a squeak, as though you were asking my permission to be your inspiration.

 

_ oh my god you are a precious soft cinnamon roll and you must be protected. _

 

“That’s really an honor, I’m serious. Thank you.” I smiled, and you smiled.

 

“Don’t get too used to it. Knowing me, I’ll probably make 3 videos and then, when I can’t make the 4th one by some arbitrary personally-selected deadline I’ll have a panic attack and never touch my channel again.”

 

I sighed and looked at you, wishing we were face to face so you could feel the weight and importance that only comes from eye contact. “Elise, for one thing, believe in yourself. If making videos is for you, you’ll keep it up. You’re finally addressing the issues that would stop you, but you can’t do it with medication alone. You have to know you can do it. And secondly, if making videos isn’t for you, then it isn’t for you. And that’s fine. You aren’t a lesser person because you have a hard time committing to a new hobby as though you were a professional whose whole life was dedicated to it. Just enjoy it, until you don’t. And then stop.”

 

“Don’t waste time when I could be looking for something else, right?”

 

“Exactly. Just like your web design clients. Obviously, you can’t stop doing that entirely because it’s your livelihood. But you can tailor the experience of doing it so it’s better for yourself. And you can do that with anything in life. If something that’s taking up space isn’t something you need to survive, treat it like a piece of clothing you like. Wear it until it no longer suits you, and then get rid of it. Don’t give it the closet space if it doesn’t make you happy anymore, life’s too short for that.”

 

When I stopped enjoying the sound of my own voice and finally looked up at you for your reaction, you suddenly looked sad, but like you were trying to hide it. You were smiling, but your eyes weren’t.

 

“You okay?” I asked.

 

You nodded.

 

“You don’t look it. Did I say something wrong?”

 

“Not really, no. I mean…” You paused for a second. Your face went through several emotions, as though trying them on to see what fit the moment. Eventually you relaxed. “I was reminded of something someone told me once. This guy I was with years ago,” you explained. “What’s sad is that I knew within 3 or 4 weeks that what he was doing was abuse & manipulation, but…”

 

I leaned forward. “You don’t have to go into it if you don’t want, I didn’t mean to press you to…”

 

“No no no, it’s fine. It’s already happened, I don’t mind talking about it. But yeah, I knew he was abusive, but it was still really hard to leave. Took me a year to finally call my sister and my mom and just say ‘come get me. Come and pick me up right now before I change my mind, because i know he’ll make me change my mind.’ Having heard stories about other women in abusive relationships, I’m apparently one of the lucky ones, even taking an entire year. And even when I’d resolved to leave his words still hurt. He knew what buttons to push, he knew how to get to me. He yelled and screamed the whole time I was packing my bag. I had clothes I had to just get rid of because whenever I looked at them I’d remember packing them, hearing him call me horrible names, and… he called me expendable. And your metaphor about throwing out clothes made me remember that.”

 

“He said that as you were leaving?”

 

“Yup. Last thing I heard from him as I walked out. ‘I don’t fucking need you anyway. You’re expendable. You were always expendable. I’ll have a new whore tomorrow.’”

 

That was honestly one of the most disgusting things I’d ever heard. I couldn’t even respond. I made no expression, as though my ability to express emotion was short circuited entirely.

 

“That was 12 years ago and I still remember the exact words, and the exact sound of his voice as he said them.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

We shared a sad, but not uncomfortable, silence as I gave you the space necessary to express yourself or say nothing, whichever you needed right then. Because I didn’t know. I didn’t have the experience to know.

 

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, you know?” You said. “It heals some, of course. And it buries others.” You then started to sound angry, like a violent burst was hiding just under the surface, ready to explode. But you kept your cool as you continued. “But when someone gets that far under your skin, when they’ve figured out all your insecurities within minutes of meeting you, and they use that knowledge to make you believe wholeheartedly that no one will ever love you as much as them, that you’re lucky to have that love, and that every cruel word they say and every glass coffee table they break is somehow evidence that they love you?  _ That _ wound doesn’t go away with time. More time just means more opportunities to aggravate the wound. And eventually you just get used to how it feels when the sting comes back.”

 

I felt a bit nauseous. Tense. Elise had tapped into a fear I didn’t realize I had - that trusting someone might eventually mean being betrayed or hurt by them. I’d never been an especially social person. I’d never feared other people really, I just found them to be a hassle. But now suddenly I was afraid of losing Phil, or Elise, or any of my other friends not to injury or disaster, but to some sort of deliberate heartbreak.

 

I pushed that fear aside. “For better or worse, I guess that pain is part of you now. It’s part of what’s made you who you are today. I’m sorry that it is, of course, but… you wouldn’t have found someone good for you like your husband if you didn’t know what a real asshole looked like, right?”

 

With a warm, relieved smile, you nodded as though reassuring yourself.

 

“You know what? That’s okay. I can finally see my potential now, you know? I’m actually fairly sure that I’ll like myself sooner rather than later.”

 

“That…” I paused, taking a moment to weigh how I felt about that. I went with optimistic sadness. “That’s nice to hear. Because you deserve to be liked by everyone. Including yourself.”

 

“Do you like yourself?”

 

I hadn’t considered my answer to that question in a very long time, but I was able to respond immediately. “I do now. It took some work - okay, a lot of work - but I do now. I changed what I could about myself and I accepted the things that I either couldn’t change or that were too hard to keep changing every single day--”

 

“--like your hair?” you playfully cut in.

 

I smirked. “Yes, like my hair. Anyway I accepted who I truly was, and changed things like my unwillingness to go too far outside my comfort zone, and my habit of talking down to myself. And eventually I did like myself. Which is a huge change from just a few years ago, really.”

 

Just then, Phil happened to walk by outside my cracked door.

 

“Hey, Phil!” I called.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Come here a sec.”

 

Phil walked in and sat by me. “Oh, hey Elise!”

 

“Hey Phil!” you said, then continued in a sing-song voice, “I’ve been watching someone’s videos!”

 

Phil smiled. “Yeah? Any favorites yet?”

 

“So far, mostly all of them. I think in general I just really like how one-removed-from-reality your editing is in some of them. You can see your personality in not just your stories and voice but in the editing too, and I love that.”

 

“Thank you! I’ve been thinking recently about getting weird in my editing again.”

 

“So Phil, I want you to tell Elise how insecure I was when we first met. She needs hope that she’ll like herself in the future.”

 

“Aw, Dan, I don’t want to think about that! It was so upsetting. You made me sad!”

 

“See!?” I said. “He doesn’t even want to talk about how much I didn’t like myself,  _ that’s _ how much I didn’t like myself!”

 

“Awww!” you cried.

 

“It was so hard to listen to him talk about being worthless and incapable,” Phil continued. “He was convinced he’d never amount to anything, that having no degree was going to ruin him. He never gave himself credit for how brave he was for taking control of his own life, and his courage is something I’ve always looked up to.”

 

“Aww, Phil. I’m gonna sick all over the keyboard!” I joked.

 

“Oh god please don’t,” Phil laughed. “But yeah, Elise, he thought he’d never be able to edit, that he wasn’t a good writer - which is just ridiculous, I wish I could write as well as he does - uh… oh, he thought that his voice was unpleasant…”

 

“You thought your voice was unpleasant?” you asked me in disbelief.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “My accent always got me teased because I sounded like a dork, and I just don’t really like the timbre and texture of it very much. Like I could probably sing really well from a skill standpoint, but I don’t think my voice is one that anyone wants to hear.”

 

“Is that why you’re mostly just talking in ‘The Internet is Here’?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Awww, Dan we might need to work on that one. Your voice is really nice. And Phil you sounded lovely in that song, by the way.”

 

“Thank you again! Look at you dishing out the compliments.”

 

You smiled.

 

Then Phil asked, “What compliments have you given yourself today?”

 

“Ah… none?” you ventured.

 

“Well let’s change that right now. I used to do this with Dan and it helped him tons. Didn’t it?”

 

“It did,” I admitted.   
  
You laughed. “Alright, what should I compliment myself on?”

 

“Well I can’t say specifically. That’s the point, it has to come from you. It should be an accomplishment, though, not an absolute trait. Because there are no absolute traits! We’re constantly changing, like a ball of clay that never dries out. So you have to think of what your clay did today!”

 

“I haven’t done anything today though.”

 

“Well you didn’t win the… what’s it called, Dan? The prize thing? Like that they give out for science and peace and other things?”

 

I furrowed my eyebrows and thought for a moment. “The Nobel prize?” I laughed.

 

“Yes! That’s the one.” Phil smiled. You and I couldn’t help but be smiling too. “You didn’t win the Nobel Prize or anything huge like that, but I bet you did something like the dishes or your laundry or getting out of bed that isn’t always easy for you to do, right?”

 

You nodded. “I did respond to an email that was a bit of a chore to respond to.” You smiled, visibly feeling proud of yourself for taking that step. It was something that would have seemed small to some, but it had been hard for you and you conquered that. And I didn’t even need to remind you of that aloud.  _ Behold, my friend - the magic of Phil’s encouraging kindness! _

 

“There you go!” Phil continued coaching you. “Just remind yourself that you did that. You are capable of that. And because you did that one thing that was hard for you to do, you’re a better and stronger person today than you were yesterday. Keep telling yourself that, every day. Remind yourself of something you did that was hard or that you were afraid to do, no matter how tiny it might seem. Because every time you do that it’s like stretching a muscle!” Phil started doing these embarrassing flexing poses. “Flex that willpower muscle!”

 

You rolled your eyes and smiled widely. “I’ll give it a shot!” you said.

 

“Okay, okay! I think you’ve served your purpose, Phil.” I pushed Phil away, laughing to hide the cringing motion my shoulders were undoubtedly doing.

 

“Bye, Elise!” Phil called as he walked out of my room.

 

“Bye, Phil! Thank you!”

 

The laughing continued until I told you I had to get some cleaning done. Then we said goodnight.

 

_ Elise, you are not expendable,  _ I thought as I drifted off to sleep that night. _ I hope Phil and I can help you to never forget that. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates - hopefully the length of this chapter makes up for it! I should update again tomorrow night, as it's easier for me to write on the weekends. Stupid grown up day job taking up all my time during the week. Booooooo lol


	5. Multiple Points of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise and Dan chat about her relationship with her husband. With Phil present, they talk about how best friends make the best marriage partners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow this took awhile to write. The conversation had to hit some very specific points (important for the plot later) and I had to make the conversation somehow natural. It was NOT easy and I'm still not happy with it, but I do hope you enjoy all the foreshadowing you're about to get.

I suddenly heard a faint, distant  _ thump! _ and then a male voice yelling “Mother fucker!”

 

Slightly concerned, I squealed out an amused-but-horrified “What the hell was that?!”

 

You put me more at ease by maintaining a calm face. You simply laughed and, clearly resisting strong temptation to roll your eyes, sighed. “I’m going to guess… Henry finished fourth in PUBG.”

 

You looked up and to your right slightly and raised your eyebrows - it looked like your husband had walked up to your door. “We finished fourth,” I heard him say.

 

“That sucks,” you said with a somewhat perfunctory tone, not letting on that you’d predicted exactly that. You clearly either didn’t care for the game or were incensed by your husband playing it often enough that you could determine the exact results by his outburst. Despite that, you wanted your husband to feel heard when he expressed his frustrations. It was very diplomatic of you, which I respected, but I felt for a long time like you were being unfair to yourself.

 

You two spoke for a moment before he said goodnight to you, kissed you on the cheek, and then walked off. You then brought your attention back to Skype.

 

“I wish he didn’t play games that pissed him off so much,” you mused.

 

“Does he say he’s having fun?” I asked.

 

“Yeah…” you grumbled.

 

Sensing a “but” coming on, I interrupted you. “Yeah, my mom used to yell at me about ‘you don’t sound like you’re having fun, you should turn the game off’ when I was a kid. Apparently your husband and I have game-induced rage in common.”

 

“Call me a ‘mom who doesn’t get it,’” you said, mocking yourself, “but I really don’t understand why you’d keep playing a game that frustrates and angers you. I mean, I knew what I was getting into, marrying this guy -- Henry’s been like this the whole time we’ve been together. Rocket League, FIFA, WoW sometimes, and now PUBG.” You were chuckling slightly, which I found rather fascinating. Your husband had this trait that bothered you, and yet you were smiling warmly thinking about it. I wondered if this was some kind of Stockholm Syndrome or something.

 

You continued. “It seems like half the games he plays, he gets frustrated at how they work, calls them ‘broken’, swears ‘I’m done!’” -- you threw your hands up emphatically to impersonate your husband -- “and then plays again the next day.”

 

“It doesn’t seem like it bothers you,” I suggested. “I mean you’re ranting about it, but you’re still with the guy. You’d probably leave him if it was that much of a problem, right?” Ugh, I was fishing here, and I knew I was. I respected your relationship, I was at peace with the fact that I was just a friend, and yet on some unconscious level I was still trying to Socratically steer you into realizing that deep down, you wanted to leave your husband. This was an embarrassing moment, and I caught myself as soon as I did it. I felt my face heat up, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice. You noticed what I was doing though, because you laughed with a look on your face that said “nice try,” but you didn't seem to take it too seriously. My hope was that this moment would be forgotten quickly.

 

“Indeed,” you said, “I have no intentions of leaving my husband. But that’s not to say his temper doesn’t bother me. I’ve been with an abusive guy before, obviously, I know what a dangerous temper looks like, and I know Henry is all bark and no bite. But that doesn’t mean his anger doesn’t bother me. Sometimes I think I might feel his moods more strongly than he does, to be honest. ‘Cause he’ll be totally over it in five minutes, but it’ll take me hours to get out of the funk he put me in.”

 

“Why do you vent to me about this though?” I asked. “Why don’t you talk to your husband about it?”  _ for fuck’s sake Dan you’re doing it again leave their marriage alone _

 

“Who says I don’t?” you said. “There’s a reason we don’t share an office anymore - he knows this bothers me. He’d prefer if we were in the same room, extrovert that he is. But it was stressing me out too much, so. He’s next door now.” Your smug grin told me you were happy with this arrangement, but your unraised eyebrows told me you felt like you were missing out on more time with him.

 

“Does the fact that you Skype with me bother him?”   


 

“Nah,” you dismissed the idea. “He and I have our own lives, and that means our own sets of friends. It’s just that those lives run parallel to one another and our roads are inches apart the entire time.”

 

“Nice metaphor,” I nodded approvingly.

 

“Well thanks, but it’s not like the life as a road metaphor is new or creative, now is it?”

 

“Not everyone extends it so far.”

 

“I suppose that’s true.”

 

“Do you ever look back at a crossroads and wonder if you went the right way?”

 

“I try not to.”

 

“Do you think you went the right way, marrying your husband?”

 

You looked up, thinking about your answer. “I didn’t go the wrong way," you said finally and confidently. "I don’t think there’s any way of knowing if a path we’ve chosen is the right one. Maybe there is no single right one. If we’re genuinely unhappy with a choice, on a profound level, we can sometimes tell that we’ve gone the wrong direction. But if someone is mostly content, if someone is fulfilled, then wondering if there’s a better path you could have taken is just greedy. And that kind of thinking can cause you to give up something wonderful. So, again, I try not to wonder if I’ve gone the right way.”

 

After a brief pause as I let your words sink in, I broke the dark silence between us. “Do you want to hear a secret?”

 

“I’m not sure if I do or not,” you said, with a tone that was the verbal equivalent of sticking your big toe into a swimming pool of ice cold water.

 

“I think I might regret not finishing university.”

 

“Mmm,” you nodded. “I can see that.”

 

“I don’t always regret it. In fact I’m not sure I’d even classify it as a regret _as such_. But with my channel’s content being basically so advertiser-unfriendly it’s like I declared actual war on advertisers, I wonder if I shouldn’t go back to school and study like, film or something.”

 

“You should study writing,” you said. “You’re actually an excellent writer, you could hone that. That stupid Urge fanfic was… shockingly not bad. It wasn’t shitty enough to be a believable fanfic, to be honest!”

 

We shared a laugh. “‘It wasn’t shitty enough’?" I demanded. "Look at you, disrespecting fanfic as though you’ve never read or enjoyed some stupid smutty fanfic.”

 

“Oh no I love good fanfic. It’s just that there’s so little of it!”

 

“90% of everything is crap, you just gotta wade through the shit to find the gold.”

 

“And what would you classify as gold?”

 

“Don’t shame me but I really like the ones where I’m short.”

 

You pretty much exploded with laughter.

 

“I told you not to shame me!”

 

“Far from shaming you, Daniel, I would like to remind you that you are beautiful just as you are, all 76 inches of you.”

 

“Wow, out of context, that sounds like...  the largest D on earth.”

 

“You know what? I’m just gonna call you that now.”

 

“Oh god, no.”

 

“Well, Largest D On Earth--”

 

“Noooooo!”

 

“--now that you’ve interrogated me, turnabout is fair play! Does Phil get jealous of you chatting with me so much?”

 

“Honestly?” I thought, inhaling through my teeth for a moment. “Probably…? I’m not sure though. He’s not the kind of person to say anything if it did bother him. He’d just be glad I’m making more friends. He’s such a dad.”

 

“What makes you say ‘probably’?”

 

“He’s passed by my door like 5 times since we started talking tonight.”

 

You laughed. “Call him in! I don’t want him to feel lonely and left out.”

 

I chuckled back and nodded. “Oi, Phil! Get your pale arse in here!”

 

“Why are you so hostile?” Phil responded on his way in.

 

“You deserve it,” I said jokingly.

 

“Hi Phil!” you greeted my bespectacled bestie as he knelt on the floor beside me.

 

“Hello, Elise! How are you doing this fine evening?”

 

“I’m delightful. I was concerned that you might feel as though you were missing out on some excellent bants between Dan and myself. You’re not, but I was worried you might feel like you are.”

 

Phil laughed. “Well what am I missing out on, then?”

 

“Profound observations on the nature of crap fanfic,” I answered. When Phil gave me a look, I answered more helpfully, “Elise wanted to know if you were jealous that I chat with her so much and don’t watch as much anime with you anymore.”

 

“Hardly!” Phil’s response was disturbingly prompt. “While Elise is distracting you, I’ve been eating so much cereal. It’s been amazing.”

 

“Phil, you little shit! Elise, were you in on this?”

 

“No, of course not!” you said, your sort of sing-songy, faux-faux-innocent tone telling me that you were in fact not in on anything, but you were having fun playing around with us. “Quick Phil, run!" you suddenly cried out. "Get his honey nut Cheerios now while you have the chance!”

 

Phil dashed out of the room giggling like a toddler popping soap bubbles, and I made chase. As we ran through the apartment yelling battle cries at one another, I could hear you laughing at us from the computer.

 

“I will defend my Cheerios with my life!” I’d yell.

 

“No hoarding the Cheerios!” Phil would respond. “The Cheerios are for everyone!”

 

Eventually, I seized the cereal box and sat back down at the computer to show you my spoils. “Victory!” I yelled. You applauded as me and Phil settled ourselves down.

 

We sat and talked with you for some time longer, snacking together on the dry sweetened oat rings all the while.

 

“It’s nice to have two different points of view, really,” I said, continuing down a reconnected thread of conversation. “I can ask Phil about things, get his opinion, and then also ask you and see what you think. Get the outsider's perspective.”

 

“How often do we disagree?” you asked.

 

“Pretty often, actually,” I laughed.

 

“Clearly we’ll have to do rock-paper-scissors when deciding things if we’re ever hanging out in person,” Phil said, a challenge in his eyes.

 

“You’ll never defeat me at rock-paper-scissors, Phil,” you said, matching Phil’s sinister face and tone. “Don’t even try.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Children, children,” I interjected. “Don’t make me separate you two.”

 

With a smile, you got back on topic. “I like having the multiple points of view too, actually. Honestly my relationship with my husband isn’t unlike the relationship between the two of you.”

 

Phil laughed. “Pretty much everyone does say Dan and I are practically married,” he said, stretching. I looked at the clock. It was already 3:30.

 

“That’s the thing, that’s what being best friends is,” you said. “When you get married, you don’t marry the person who makes your heart pound and your loins moisten. I mean, they might have done that to you once, but that’s not what a lasting marriage is built on. I can’t help but look at marriages that start with these passionate, tumultuous romances and wonder… what the fuck are you thinking?”

 

“Well that’s the problem isn’t it? That they’re not thinking,” I said. “I mean even if you have this passionate romance, you could still have a very long-lasting thing, but you need the trust and the acceptance and the being proud of one another.”

 

Phil nodded silently, his big eyes definitely engaged in the conversation despite the yawn-induced tears that had begun to form in them.

 

“That acceptance thing...” you continued. “My husband and I definitely don’t totally understand one another’s interests and pursuits, but we will always accept each other and cheer each other on, even when we don’t get it.”

 

“It’s about support, right?” I added. “In the end we’re all just playing cards that’ll be blown away in the wind someday, and we need someone we can lean against in the meantime.”

 

“You gotta take it in a dark direction, don’t you?” you asked me flatly. We laughed a bit. “You’re dead-on with the trust thing, though. Obviously we have to trust our partners not to cheat and not to steal from us and all that obvious stuff, sure. But we also have to trust them with our actual selves, right?”

 

Phil’s eyes were glazing over as he became sleepier, but he tried to continue paying attention.

 

I kept talking. “We do! We need to know that we can tell them our darkest secrets and our worries. We’re constantly giving them the fuel to judge us, so we have to trust that they never will.”

 

“Yes! And that they won’t feel judged if we bring up a problem. Like we have to trust that the love will always be there, otherwise we can’t have any conflict resolution, you know?”

 

“That’s really it right there, isn’t it? You have to have trust to have communication.”

 

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded. It was peculiar having a conversation in which I was talking about best friends, you were talking about marriage, and we were saying the exact same things. It was a legitimately eye-opening life lesson… figuratively speaking, at least. “If I’m having an issue with my husband, I’ll always bring it up with him. And he always addresses it to the best of his ability. But he’s kinda sensitive, you know? In the moment, when I bring it up, he’ll sound frustrated or dismissive, and it’s admittedly hard to tell if that’s because I’m calling out something he’s done wrong or if I’m really being unreasonable. But I trust that he’ll still love me after the conversation is done.”

 

“So far, nothing you’ve talked about has seemed unreasonable to me,” I reassured you.

 

“Not to me, either,” Phil offered his commiseration, which in his half-asleep state probably required a good deal of effort.

 

“Thanks guys,” you said. Then you yawned.

 

“Are you sleepy already?” I said, playing up the disbelief to cover up how sleepy I had grown. “It’s not even, what, 11 o’clock where you are?”

 

“It’s almost 10, actually. I know, I’m old and lame.”

 

“Uh, it’s called being wise and sensible?” I offered semi-sarcastically, which made you grin.

 

Phil stood up. “I’m going to get to bed myself. You should, too. We have a proper holiday to go on tomorrow!” With that, he was off.

 

“Where are you guys going?” you asked.

 

“Some island south of Italy,” I said, honestly forgetting the name of it. “It’ll involve going outside, I’m not looking forward to it.”

 

You laughed at me. “You do realize you don’t have to keep your brand alive when you’re talking to me, right?” You rested your face on your right hand as though simply staying upright had become just too hard.

 

“Nothing wrong with practicing!” I responded, stretching and yawning.

 

“Awww, look at you!” you said warmly, smiling with half-closed eyes. “You stretch like a cat.”

 

“I do not, I stretch like a baby giraffe.”

 

“Awfully graceful & handsome for a baby giraffe,” you said. I pretended like you calling me handsome didn’t make my legs tingle and the hair on the back of my neck stand up in an oddly pleasant way. It’s one thing to genuinely try being just friends with someone you’re interested in romantically; it’s quite another to completely succeed.

 

“Too gangly for a cat though,” I said.

 

“Touche.”

 

We sat in silence for a moment. I gave up and just said it. “Handsome?”

 

I smiled.

 

You smiled.

 

“Yes,” you said in mock frustration. “You’re handsome.” And just as quickly, you dropped the topic. “So when are you guys getting back?”

 

“The 17th, I think? 18th? I don’t know. I’m sleepy and it’s Phil’s job to plan our trips, I don’t have the capacity for it. I just queue up the videos that are going up while we’re gone.” I laughed.

 

“I love how you guys divide up the work. If it involves being a responsible adult, it goes to Phil. If it involves showing off, it goes to you!”

 

“Oi, fuck off, you!” I teased. You gave a closed-mouth laugh.

 

“Man, what am I gonna do for ten days without being able to chat with you?” you asked.

 

“Talk to your husband!” I said. “Spend time with him. Hug him. Fuck him. It’ll be good for you!”

 

“Pssh, husband. So boring,” you said sarcastically.

 

“I know you’re joking but still, don’t take him for granted!” I reminded you. “You never know, a meteor could hit your house and kill you both by morning.” I mean I was half-joking but I wasn’t wrong, really.

 

“That’s fair,” you said. “Neither of us is in the best of health, it’s actually not outside the realm of possibility for sleep apnea or an aneurysm to take one of us.”

 

“That’s the spirit!” I said with as little irony as possible, which made you laugh far louder than I deserved.

 

“Goodnight, Largest D on Earth. I will do my best to appreciate my husband for a week and a half.”

 

“Goodnight, Elise.”  _ I will do my best not to have sexual fantasies about you for a week and a half. _

 

***

 

Me and Phil returned home on the 18th, just in time for the weather in London to realize it was indeed Autumn and it should probably get its seasonal shit together. As I recovered from my post-travel exhaustion (and what must be mild sunstroke, because I got the amount of sun that most normal people get and my body is unaccustomed to it), I slept. A lot. So I apologize for not Skyping you as soon as I got home.

 

When we did chat again, you asked me for my address, saying you wanted to send me something. When I asked what, you held up a painting of a girl’s silhouette kneeling down under a dark tree, lightning in the background. The girl was kneeling down, reaching out across a chasm with a small, friendly-looking house on the other side of it. You said the painting was of you, trying to get to where you belonged but being faced with a seemingly insurmountable gap.

 

You'd made a painting. And you wanted me to have it.

 

You were so proud of yourself because you’d actually finished a painting, and it turned out looking exactly how you envisioned it in your mind. I was all smiles hearing you talk about the process of doing it, and how you never told me you’d been working on it because past experience had told you that you’d never finish it. But you did. And when I asked why you wanted to send it to me and not keep it as a souvenir of your success, you said it was because you couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t gone to a doctor and gotten help. And you only did that because I said something.

 

You said that I was as much the painting’s father as you were its mother - the labour was yours, but you couldn’t have done it without me. The metaphor was a bit off-puttingly intimate, to be honest, but I had to admit it was apropos. I felt honoured, and I did find the painting quite beautiful. I saw a lot of myself in that girl, too.

 

In the early afternoon of September 22nd, the apartment buzzer sounded and I opened the door. I saw the painting there, which caught me off-guard.

 

And also your eyes were peering over the top of it, which caused my brain to short-circuit a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will go up this weekend... exactly how it plays out will depend on the end result of a real-world football/soccer game, so. The story ends up going the same way regardless, but how I write the next chapter will depend on that. So yeah! Look forward to that. :)


	6. The Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and Phil meet Elise's husband, and Dan and Elise have some time by themselves. Phil feels like he has to babysit Dan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter about half a dozen times to make sure it panned out realistically. The real-life events mentioned in this chapter are things that really happened so if you want to immerse yourself you can look them up if you like. :)
> 
> The very end of the chapter has a not-graphic-but-still-definitely-happening mention of masturbation so the rating went up to M from T just in case.

_What the actual fuck were you doing there?_

 

“What the actual fuck are you doing here?”

 

You smiled brightly. “I wish I could say I’ve been planning to surprise you for months or something similarly epic and cool, but to be honest I totally forgot Henry had a trip to London booked!”

 

“I still don’t understand how you forgot this trip, Leese,” Henry said. I hadn’t noticed that he was behind you.

 

“Stuff like this sneaks up on me,” you leaned in and said to me. Apparently you’d tried to explain this to your husband already. “Anyway, I figured since I was in town, I should come say hi!”

 

“Well come in!” I said, my flustered expression finally dropping in favor of my lucid self. I slid to the side of the doorway and motioned for you both to come in.

 

I’d heard his voice from just out of frame for months, but I realized this was the first time I’d actually seen your husband. You were considerably more physically attractive than he was, but despite his modest looks I could see the appeal - he was reasonably charismatic thanks to his confident posture (something I certainly lacked) and charming smile. His black framed glasses did nothing to hide the awareness sparkling in his eyes. This was a man I’d describe as “awake.”

 

“Sorry for dropping in like this,” he said as we walked toward the lounge. “When Elise remembered we were coming to London, she was suddenly rambling about ‘I get to see my biffle!’ and how she wanted you to have her painting… She’s been literally bouncing around excitedly since we landed yesterday.”

 

“You sound ridiculous when you say biffle,” you said to your very masculine husband who, yes, did do.

 

“You do too, what the hell does biffle even mean?” Your husband very nearly interrupted himself with his own laughter. His delivery seemed a bit mean-spirited to me, but you didn’t seem bothered.

 

“What?” you said with a smile. “You’re just jealous of my youthful whimsy!”

 

We reached the lounge where Phil’s eyes were on the TV and his hands were on a controller.

 

“Phil!” I called.

 

With a “hm?” Phil finally tore his attention away from the game. His face lit up when he saw you. “Elise!” he exclaimed.

 

“Hey Phil!” you returned his joyful greeting and opened your arms for a hug, and he happily obliged.

 

Your husband extended his hand to Phil with a friendly smile. “Henry,” he said.

 

“Phil,” Phil replied, accepting the handshake.

 

I motioned for everyone to sit down.

 

“Does anyone want a drink or anything?”

 

“I’m good,” you said.

 

“I’m fine, thanks.” Your husband was stupidly polite as guests go. It was frustrating. “We won’t be too long. We’re gonna go get a late lunch and do some shopping before I go to the AFC Wimbledon game later.”

 

“Ah, is that what brought you guys here?”

 

“Two things,” you said. “One, an AFC Wimbledon game against MK. Henry’s a ridiculously huge AFC Wimbledon fan.”

 

I chuckled. “Is that John Green’s doing?”

 

“Surprisingly no!” you answered quickly, apparently expecting I’d ask. “Henry was a fan before I met him, and he was not into YouTube at all--”

 

“I’m still not, no offense intended.”

 

“None taken,” I said quickly, looking at you to make sure you felt okay continuing.

 

“...and he certainly wasn’t a fan of young adult novels. He was already interested in soccer, and he just really liked the team’s story when he learned about it. Has a book on it and everything. What’s it called?”

 

“‘This is Our Time.’” your husband said.

 

“Yes, that’s it. Anyway, he’s a huge fan, but he hadn’t had a chance to come up here in years and watching AFC Wimbledon games isn’t easy over in the states so he’s been having, like… withdrawals. His friend Corey lives in the area and was cool with us crashing at his place if we came this particular weekend, so here we are!”

 

“You said two things?” I asked, looking at Elise.

 

“Well, I’m not a football fan. So awhile back I got tickets to meet Enter Shikari and see them play an acoustic set at HMV on Oxford Street.”

 

“It’ll be over long before my game is, so she was just gonna go shopping for a bit before heading back to Corey’s.”

 

“Well that’s not entirely safe,” Phil said. “It’ll be dark out for most of the game, won’t it?” He looked at you. “Do you want us to come with you? We can be your bodyguards!” Phil smiled proudly. “We don’t have anything else to do tonight.”

 

“I wasn’t gonna wander around, Henry.” You sighed. “I plan to head back to Corey’s immediately after.”

 

“Why do that? Come back here and play games with us instead!” I exclaimed before I could stop myself. I then felt the need to justify this perfectly reasonable idea, awkward and anxious as I was. “You’re in town, and this is a rare thing, so you should hang out with me and Phil properly. Who knows when we’ll have the opportunity again?”

 

“I don’t want to intrude,” you said.

 

“You’re not an intruder at all!” Phil said. “As I said before, we don’t have plans. We’d love to have you.”

 

“We’re not far from the station,” I added. “I can walk over and meet you there to make sure you’re not walking back here alone.”

 

You didn’t respond for a moment, looking at both of us as if to inspect the honesty of our eyes. I figured you might doubt the sincerity of the invitation - you’re like me like that. You seemed satisfied that yes, we did indeed want you here. So, after a quick glance at your husband, who shrugged with a smile that said the decision was all yours, you gave in to the peer pressure.

 

“Alright, alright. I’ll come hang out after Shikari.”

 

We continued talking for some time until you both left, choruses of “see you later” ringing out. As soon as you were out the door, I felt my chest tighten.

 

You were going to be here later tonight, physically, without your husband.

 

Phil looked at me and his smile vanished completely. “Don’t even think about it.”.

 

“What?”

 

“Flirting with Elise when she gets here. Don’t think about it. Don’t do it.”

 

“I wasn’t going to.”

 

“Don’t lie to yourself, Dan. You can lie to me all you want - I can see through it - but don’t lie to yourself.”

 

“I wasn’t!  I was going to be nice to her, sure, but if I flirted it would have been by accident.”

 

Phil didn’t say anything. Not verbally anyway. The face he shot my general direction said loads.

 

***

 

“Do I look alright?” I said, throwing my jacket over my shoulders.

 

“It doesn’t matter how you look, Dan,” Phil said flatly. He sighed. “I feel like I should be coming with you.”

 

“I don’t need a babysitter. She’s a married woman, it’s fine. It’ll be fine. Everything will be completely fine!”

 

“Please don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

 

“You know me!”

 

“Yeah, I do. And I know you’ve got a ridiculous crush on Elise in part because you’ve only known her for like three months so you only have a vague idea of who she is as a person. If you ask me, her visit here is rather dangerous.” Phil sighed like a stressed out movie detective realizing he’s too damn old for this shit. “But then again, I also know you’re an adult, and you know that if you do anything stupid it’s all on you.”

 

_When did Phil turn into a lecturing parent?_

 

I could tell I had that same deliberately expressionless face that a teenager has when his mum has told him that throwing eggs at passing cars in order to impress a few asshole classmates was going to result in him getting arrested someday. That look when you knew you’d done something wrong, and you’d already known it long before any authority figure told you, but you wanted to keep doing the wrong thing anyway.

 

“I won’t do anything stupid,” I said.

 

***

 

It hadn’t been a particularly cold day, but the current lack of sunlight meant the air had some chill to it. I’d brought my jacket; you, however, were ill-prepared. Once we were on the surface above the tube station, you hugged your torso, your back slightly curving as though you were a roly-poly bug trying to curl up. I draped my jacket over your shoulder and your posture corrected itself. You smiled at me.

 

I’m sure words were exchanged as well as bodily coverings, but I can’t recall any of them. It was likely the sort of smalltalk you make when you’re on autopilot.

 

The first bit of conversation I remember was you explaining that you’d almost missed every train you’d taken so far during your time in London.

 

“I’ve been fairly useless since we got on the plane, to be honest. I haven’t had my medication!”

 

“What?”

 

“Yup. To bring my medication into the country, I would have needed a note from my doctor saying ‘yes, Elise is the owner of these pills, and yes, she does need them’ but since the trip date snuck up on me, I just didn’t get the chance.”

 

“So you’re traveling, in a strange city in a foreign country, without your husband for at least part of that time… and you don’t have your medication!?” Part of me was proud of you, and part of me was horrified.

 

“Yup,” you said, looking at your feet. “I’m glad Henry will be around most of this trip though. He’s insanely organized. It’s like having a friendly, cute, very chatty day planner follow you around everywhere.”

 

I laughed a bit.

 

“He’s very patient with me. He knows when to ease up and let me be my spaced-out self, but he also knows when my disorganized brain is really bothering me. I don’t even tell him it is, he can just see it.”

 

“Sounds like he really understands you.”

 

“Yeah. He has for years. Before I even learned it was ADHD, he was right there helping me get my life organized so my brain could free up some space to process other stuff, you know? He could tell I was overwhelmed, regardless of why, and he helped so much. But he never made me feel dependent or inferior. Most people I know… they’re well-intentioned, I can tell, but they end up treating me like a child. I know they’re just trying to help, but… y’know.”

 

“Yeah, that’s a tough balance to strike.” The truth was, I have no idea how I could have done it. Your husband had my utmost respect. And I was honestly envious that he was able to be exactly what you needed.

 

We walked and talked until we reached the outside of the flat. Before walking in, I just stood there facing you, not wanting the moment to end. As soon as we went inside, we’d be joined by Phil, and our time alone would be over. _But our time alone can’t end yet. We’re not done yet._ I’m not sure what I was hoping for-- well, that’s a lie. I know what I was hoping for, but it wasn’t a reasonable thing to want or to expect, so I tried so hard to push it out of my head. Not that it worked.

 

I want to believe that you wanted to kiss me just then, and that you hugged me because you knew you couldn’t. I want to believe that your hands moving up and down my back weren’t a feeble attempt to warm me up, but were instead a substitute for some more intimate contact. I want to believe that when I felt your fingers curl inward to grab my shirt, that you knew I could feel your nails scrape my back ever so slightly. I want to believe you wanted me, but I know - and knew even then - that you loved your husband and, if you felt anything for me at all beyond friendship, you saw it as nothing more than a crush to be ignored as much as possible. Not anything lasting or important.

 

You didn’t have your medication, that’s all this was. Impulses. Nothing profoundly meaningful, just sexual attraction that you wanted to get out of your system as innocently as you could.

 

But as for me… I will never forget the mingling scents of cherry blossoms and lavender in your hair.

 

My chest tightened again. I wrapped my arms around you and reminded myself how to breathe, trying to slow my heart as inconspicuously as possible. I gently and innocently kissed the top of your head.

 

To my surprise, you pulled away and looked into my eyes. I noticed your sporadic, subtle glances to the lower half of my face. I suddenly felt self-conscious about my lips being chapped and dry, but still silently wished for you to follow through and kiss me.

 

You never did.

 

You stepped back away from me and inhaled deeply. “We should get inside,” you said happily, as if that moment between us had never happened.

 

I nodded. “Yeah, Phil’s probably wondering why our walk back from the station is taking a hundred years.”

 

***

 

Once we were inside, and you’d given my jacket back, you excused yourself to use the toilet. In the meantime, I sat on the sofa. Phil, already seated, glared at me.

 

“I saw you two outside,” he said sternly but quietly to make sure you didn’t hear. “What the hell, Dan?”

 

“What?”

 

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

 

“I mean what? It’s not like we were making out or anything.”

 

“Maybe not, but you were getting awfully close.”

 

“To be fair, she started it. She’s just not medicated right now, she wasn’t thinking and she let herself go a bit farther than she normally would. That’s all. She’s not a bad person, she’s not going to cheat on her husband with me.”

 

“No she’s just going to grab at your shirt as though she wants to remove it, and you’re going to kiss her.”

 

“I kissed her head! You would kiss a sibling’s head, it doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“Dan, you’re sending her mixed messages! You can’t enable this sort of thing. It’s like taking advantage of a drunk girl. She’s not in her right mind right now, she--”

 

“Don’t talk about her like she’s mad, Phil! It’s ADHD, it’s not paranoid delusions. She’s not a crazy psychopath, she just likes me and can’t hold back.”

 

“Are you hearing yourself, Dan? You sound like a complete narcissist.”

 

“Stop diagnosing things, Phil. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Me and Phil sat in silence on opposite ends of the sofa. We heard the toilet flush and the sink run, and then you came back out. Upon seeing us, you paused.

 

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

 

“Not exactly,” I replied.

 

I felt bad for you right then. You stood there, not knowing what to say, or even if you were allowed to sit down. I patted the sofa beside me so you knew you could indeed have a seat. When you did, you sat up unnaturally straight, as though your spine were a radio tower trying to pick up any signals from us that might tell you how to behave.

 

Phil looked like he was torn between going to his room in order to distance himself from the entire situation and staying put so he could babysit us. He plastered on his sweetest smile and approached the game consoles.

 

“So! Anyone for Mario Kart?”

 

***

 

Phil eventually relaxed when there was no repeat of the flirtatious contact he’d seen outside. We managed to simply enjoy each other’s company. It felt like a Skype conversation, but with lag-free gaming to go with it. It made me feel sad to think of your status as only a temporary visitor, so I did my best to enjoy the moment.

 

You did not help matters with your playful slapping. Or when you propped your feet up on my lap at one point. Or when you claimed to be getting tired and leaned on my shoulder.

 

Phil glared. I lightly nudged you off me.

 

When Phil got up to use the toilet, you looked at me with slightly sad eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

“No, of course not.” I pretended I didn’t know what you were talking about. It was hard to explain my behavior without basically saying ‘I want to be a homewrecker but I know that’d be wrong.’

 

“You just seem really distant since we got back to the apartment. Is it because we hugged outside? Was that weird?”

 

I avoided eye contact. “No,” I said softly. “It was the opposite of weird.” I’ll be honest, I said that with the exact same tone I’d have used if I was telling you I loved you.

 

I heard you breathe in. You sounded startled, as though “I love you” had been what you heard.

 

“Oh,” was all you said before Phil got back.

 

“Does anyone want a drink?” he asked, still standing.

 

You were looking at me, I could see out of the corner of my eye, but you answered him. “Do you have any beer in the fridge, by any chance? I could use one.”

 

“We do. Does it matter what kind?”

 

“Not really.”

 

***

 

“FUCK YOU FUCKING BLUE SHELLS FFFFFFFFF--” Getting second place in Mario Kart didn’t exactly make me articulate.

 

You could not stop laughing. You managed to squeeze past me for first place and you actually got up, pointed at me, yelled “HAH!” and started doing a happy dance.

 

“I won the raaaaace,” you sang. “I beat you, I beat the so called Mario Kart master! Well who’s the master now, bitch?”

 

“I hate you so much right now.”

 

You took a swig of your beer and handed your controller to Phil.

 

I won the next race, and I suspect Phil let me win. I’d lost two races in a row and I was in quicksand, I could tell. When Phil and I were neck-and-neck, he braked too hard around a turn towards the end. It felt like he gave me that one.

 

“Dan, you need to not swear at people who beat you at Mario Kart. You can swear at me all you want, but you really shouldn’t be so mean to everyone else.”

 

“Dan can swear at me all he wants,” you said, smirking. “I mean, it’s kinda hot, to be honest.”

 

Phil made the decision to ignore you. “We should do another Phan Prix tomorrow. You need to practice not calling people names!”

 

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah but a Phan Prix is like boot camp for that. If we do this, I can’t be held liable for any offense caused.”

 

“My back hurts,” you whined playfully, sitting on the floor in front of me as I handed you my controller. “Dan, help.”

 

“What do you need, shoulders?” I honestly asked this as though it were very routine for me to do this. It felt oddly natural to just… give you a neck or back rub. I don’t know why.

 

“Yeah, like at the base of my neck. Can you get where my purse strap sits?”

 

I knew Phil was going to be mad at me for it, but I started massaging where you indicated. I rubbed your shoulders and you tilted your head, moaning to signal that I was working the right area.

 

Sure enough, Phil was glaring at me while you chose the next track. I shrugged, my eyes wide, to communicate “what was I supposed to do, say no? She needs a neck rub! Seriously, her muscles are REALLY tight, I can feel it.”

 

Phil gave a bitter half-smile, shook his head, and gave up.

 

You won the next race too. I take credit for relaxing you enough so you could win.

 

***

 

After a few beers, you were getting sleepy. I put a cushion under your head and pulled a blanket over top of you. I’d love to say you looked beautiful or innocent when you slept but to be honest you looked ridiculous. Your face mashed flat against the cushion, your arm awkwardly tucked underneath you, you were utterly unsexy in every way.

 

I spontaneously had the invasive thought that your husband was a really good man.

 

I thought back to some of the interactions I’d had with him when you first came by earlier that afternoon. I’d seen mean-spiritedness in his teasing, when clearly you were poking fun at each other the way couples and best friends often do. I’d seen his politeness as cold. I’d seen him apparently not understanding you at all when, based on what you’d told me about researching ADHD and being there for you, he’d always understood you better than anyone else did.

 

I thought about how lovely I saw you most of the time, and how amusingly unattractive you were right now - I mean, I certainly still found you cute. But would I always? And then I thought about how I probably wouldn’t be able to resist treating you like a child if I were around you and your ADHD all the time. I thought about how you and I were both sore losers and sore winners, and how much that would make us clash if we were around one another all the time.

 

Your husband helped you, but he still respected your autonomy as an individual. I couldn’t take you away from a partner like that. He’d never find anyone like you again, and you would have lost out on someone who really was your other half. He was the one who could help you every day with all the boring stuff. I couldn’t ever do that for you. I can barely do that stuff for myself.

 

Sure, I consider myself good enough. For myself, for the world, for existence, for my friends and family. But I wasn’t good enough for _you_. And he was.

 

 _He’s the one who should have that painting,_ I thought. _Not me._

 

Phil and I turned on some episodes of Adventure Time while you slept, which felt like a good thing to use for background sound. I browsed Tumblr on my laptop, occasionally glancing at you. Phil watched Finn and Jake while sipping on some decaf coffee.

 

“You showed remarkable restraint,” he said suddenly.

 

“It wasn’t easy,” I replied. “But the thing is… I don’t want her to lose a man who’s so great for her. Henry’s a great match for Elise, and they’re clearly happy together. I couldn’t do for her what he does.”

 

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you use his name,” Phil pointed out.

 

I realized he was right. Henry became a person when I met him. The man I’d referred to as “Elise’s husband” had just been an idea, an obstacle before. An adversary almost. But now he was _Henry_. My good friend’s partner in life.

 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you when Elise first got here,” Phil said.

 

“It’s okay. You were just telling me I needed to see a doctor because I’d been impaled. You’d have been a bad friend if you didn’t say anything.” Phil and I smiled at each other.

 

***

 

Not long after 11:15, Henry had come to retrieve his sleeping wife. I was the only one still awake - okay, to be fair, Phil was probably awake, but he’d gone to “bed” already, and I’ve learned not to ask - so I answered the door.

 

“Hey!” I said quietly but with genuine enthusiasm. “How was the game?”

 

“It sucked. We lost, two-nil.”

 

“Even with home field advantage? That’s disappointing.”

 

“Not really. I mean, disappointment implies surprise. I wouldn’t be shocked if we were relegated back to league two after this season.” Henry seemed to notice that my eyes had glazed over once the sports talk got more specific. “Anyway, did Elise behave herself?” He smiled to show that this was indeed a joke, and he knew there was no reason to assume you hadn’t behaved.

 

“Oh, no. She threw a wild party, the place was a mess. I had to burn the place down and rebuild it.” I smiled, and your husband laughed.

 

“Thanks so much for letting her hang out with you guys. Don’t tell her this, because I hate making her feel like a little kid, but I’d have spent the whole game worried sick that she might not have gotten back to Corey’s safely. No way I would have been able to relax and enjoy myself.”

 

“The pleasure’s all ours. She’s a sweetheart, although she is quite the sore winner, isn’t she?”

 

Henry laughed. “You should hear her when she has higher DPS than me when we’re running WoW dungeons. She takes that shit seriously.”

 

We started walking towards the lounge. “How much longer are you in town?” I asked.

 

“Just a few days. We want to make sure the cost of the plane tickets were worth it, but we didn’t want to wear out our welcome with Corey.”

 

“Hey, next time you want to come to London, if Corey isn’t free to let you stay there, you always have a place here. The room we film our gaming videos in has one of those Ikea futons you can just fold out and sleep on. Just let us know. You’re always welcome as long as you don’t mind Phil and I staying up late.”

 

“Thanks man, I’ll keep in touch for sure.”

 

We shook hands and he walked over to the sofa to wake you up.

 

As soon as you opened your eyes and saw Henry, you lit up like fairy lights. Warm and delicate, but unmistakably glowing. “Hey, tame beast,” you said.

 

“Hey you,” he replied. “Time to go back to Corey’s.”

 

“Boo,” you said with an exaggerated pout. “I was really enjoying the unnatural twisting my neck was doing on this couch.” You sat up and rubbed your neck.

 

Having noted the very unusual pet name, I had to ask. “Did she just call you ‘tame beast’?”

 

“It’s a reference to a song.”

 

You and Henry smiled at each other.

 

I was jealous. Or envious. Not sure. I always get those two mixed up.

 

***

 

I’d expected you and Henry leaving to make that tightness in my chest finally go away. I thought if you weren’t here, maybe I’d be able to relax. But all I could do was lie in bed imagining things. Did you want to kiss me outside the flat? Would you have said or done anything differently if Phil hadn’t been around? What did “oh” mean? Why did you ask for a back rub after that? How did you feel about me!?

 

Then again, I suppose how you felt didn’t matter. How I felt didn’t matter. Things were what they were - you were happily married to a good man, and you lived in America anyway.

 

I wish logic were enough to talk me out of these nighttime daydreams, but that didn’t stop me from having them. My eyes shut tight, blocking out the outside world, I let myself think of you.

 

In my mind, Phil wasn’t there. You and I were alone. We sat on the couch, and you leaned close to me. You ran a finger through my hair, tracing around my face and putting your hand on my cheek. I turned my head into your embrace just slightly, then looked into your eyes. They were glancing at my lips, just as they had outside. You brought yourself closer still, until I could feel your warm alcohol breath on me.

 

“Kiss me,” I imagined you saying.

 

In real life, I exhaled sharply at the thought. I imagined doing as you commanded, breathing in the scent of your hair again, running my fingers through your hair and grabbing it by the root. You moaned in my mind, I moaned in real life.

 

I imagined touching you. I imagined you wanting me. I imagined doing everything I wanted to do to you, but couldn’t.

 

It gave me a physical feeling of bliss for just a moment. But once I’d cleaned myself up, the guilt had returned.

 

I couldn’t give you up as my friend. If I couldn’t just cut off contact with you, how was I ever going to get over you?


	7. Thriving on Neglect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil tells Dan what he needs to do in order to start the process of getting over Elise. But before Dan decides to follow through on that advice, he and Elise have a talk about her visit to London and what their words and actions meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter took so many rewrites, but this one - in which Dan is basically me dealing with something I dealt with years ago - practically poured out of my fingers on its own. One thing Elise says to Dan is something that my friend said to me, and I actually cried remembering it.

“Phiiiiiilllll! What the fuck do I do?”

 

Phil was on one side of the sofa, and I was awkwardly slumped over the other side of it, laying where you had been a few nights previously, pouting dramatically.

 

“What are you on about?”

 

“Elise.”

 

“Oh for God’s sake, not this again.” Phil squeezed his eyes shut and massaged the bridge of his nose.

 

“What? Phil this is a serious problem for me, okay? Don’t be a twat, just… help.”

 

“I already told you what to do. And I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

 

“I know…”

 

“And instead of deciding to take my advice, you nervously shifted in your seat as though your pants were suddenly full of spiders and just whined ‘I dunno…’”

 

I groaned and covered my head with the cushion you’d slept on. I noticed it still smelled like your hair.

 

“Dan.”

 

“What.” (Muffled.)

 

“You have to stop talking to her for awhile.”

 

“I just” -- I uncovered my face -- “can’t!”

 

Phil shifted his position, putting his elbow over the back of the sofa and facing me. “Why not?” he asked pointedly. “She’s not air, she’s not water, she’s not your job. You don’t need to talk to her to survive.”

 

“She’s... a promise.” _Take that, Philly. You have to keep promises, after all. Plus, that sounded really profound - with luck, the poetry of my words will catch you off-guard and you’ll have no rebuttal. Hah!_

 

Phil paused for only a moment and contemplated my response. “A promise you made to her, or to yourself?” _Well, shit._

 

I looked at Phil, then cast my eyes toward the floor. “...To myself.” I admitted. “But to her and Henry also! I said they could stay here with us whenever they make a trip to London so they’re not just dependent on that Corey friend of theirs.”

 

“Both of them?” Phil looked genuinely surprised. “Interesting.”

 

“Why? Why’s that interesting?”

 

“No matter. Look, I get it - you can’t just ghost the poor girl, that would be cruel.”

 

“Exactly!”

 

“Stop talking, Dan. What you _do_ need to do is distance yourself, though. Don’t just cut her off, but ease the hell up. Whenever you talk to her, it’s like it reconnects all those zappy feelings in your brain and in your heart and you just start crushing on her all over again!”

 

I avoided eye contact.

 

He continued. “I see you staring at your phone waiting for Facebook messages from her. I see how long you chat with her on Skype, ignoring everything else - and, for the record, you DO realize your editing output has plummeted, yeah? We’re uploading half as many gaming channel videos, and that’s even with me taking over editing on some of them, but Dan - that channel is your chief source of income now. You need to get back on task, this isn’t cute anymore.”

 

It was true. Demonetization had hit my own channel really hard, what with all the swearing and inappropriate humor making it “not advertiser friendly.” Phil’s more kid-safe antics mostly survived, so he was fine, but all I really had was my half of the gaming channel’s revenue. And money from YouTube Red subscribers watching TATINOF, but that had gradually slowed down over the past half-year or so. Phil was right, I needed to be taking the game channel more seriously.

 

It was hard to be honest with myself that you were a distraction. It’s a rather un-bohemian stance to take; part of me was reluctant to accept that love wasn’t the answer to all life’s problems. But that’s the reality of it. On top of it, it’s hard when you’re an adult to admit that romantic feelings are distracting you. It’s something I hoped would go away once I was past about 25 years old. Or maybe 16. Adults never seem bothered by this - it seems so juvenile.

 

But you were turning me into a fucking year seven hormone factory and I had homework to do.

 

Not that I wanted to face that truth yet.

 

“I can’t ease up contact, Phil. I’ll just edit while I’m talking to her. It’ll be fine.”

 

“You only use the word ‘fine’ when you know things aren’t ‘fine’. You know you have to allocate less of your brain and less of your time to Elise.”

 

“But… What if she thinks I just don’t care anymore though? If the whole point is to not ruin the friendship and not lose her completely, isn’t this a risky move?”

 

“She knows what you do for a living, she’ll probably just think you’ve been busy.”

 

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

 

“That’s ‘cause you’re addicted.”

 

“I’m not addicted.”

 

“Spoken like a true addict!” Phil gave me a look and sighed, clearly annoyed and ready to be done with this conversation. “Look, whether you take my advice or not, it’s your responsibility to deal with this. You made this bed, now you gotta lie in it.” He turned his eyes back toward the TV, where they’d been before, effectively leaving me alone on the couch with my thoughts.

 

***

 

**Elise Ludwig**

Made it back to Texas! :D

 

**Daniel Howell**

cool :)

 

**Elise Ludwig**

Wanna skype later?

 

_Yes. Yes I do. I really really do._

 

**Daniel Howell**

i can’t tonight, i have so much editing to do.  
soon though?

 

**Elise Ludwig**

You got it. :)  
I gotta go, I’m going to my Mom’s for lunch.  
Talk to you later! <3

 

_Why did you put a heart there seriously why do you do this to me uuggghhh_

 

I closed out the chat window so I wouldn’t keep staring at that heart emoji wondering why the hell you would add it.

 

I turned my head and looked up at the painting you’d given me, now hung up on my wall. Its very low-saturation color palette made it a great fit for my room - mostly monochromatic, but with some warm tones adding dimension and visual interest. It made the two bare trees look truly dead, it made the sky look terrifyingly stormy. It also made the whole thing feel more like a representation of tumultuous human emotion rather than a just sketchy piece of decor. I would look at that painting and actually feel relief that I’d rescued you from feeling so lost.

 

I decided I needed a second opinion. Phil couldn’t be the ultimate authority in how to handle getting over you. I went over to reddit, made a throwaway account, and made a post in /r/relationships asking how to get over romantic feelings for someone whose friendship is important to you.

 

And they didn’t tell me the same thing Phil did. Instead, when I checked a few hours later, I saw them all telling me to cut off contact with you entirely and never speak to you again. So that wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped.

 

***

 

Over the next few days, you and Henry were mostly busy unpacking and getting back into the swing of things at your respective jobs. Beyond a few messages telling me about how swamped you were just playing catch-up on your e-mails, I didn’t hear from you much.

 

 _This is easier than I thought it would be_ , I said to myself. _I can do this._

 

I did miss talking to you though. So I figured I’d do the next best thing and watch your YouTube videos. You had two up that I hadn’t seen yet.

 

One was a vlog of your trip to London. I didn’t even realize you were going to do that. I would have happily let you film a bit when you were at our place, but you didn’t ask to. I figure there are just some things you didn’t necessarily want to share, or maybe you didn’t want to make it seem like you were using us for views. In any case, you showed a bit of the Enter Shikari set, and then filmed yourself in the tube station excitedly showing viewers your autographed copy of their album. You looked utterly ecstatic. When you cut the vlog because I’d come to get you, you only said “My friend’s here,” making no mention of who I was. Anyway, your vlog showed you and your husband going to places like Buckingham Palace, the Eye, all the usual touristy stuff. And also Forbidden Planet, where you squealed over nearly everything. I made a mental note that the wall of Funko Pops particularly mesmerised you. I hadn’t realized you were quite so much of a nerd. It was really endearing.

 

The other video, from before your trip, was called “MY HUSBAND IS WEIRD.” In it, you listed off a few things your husband would do that you found nonsensical, frustrating, or annoying. Each thing had a more positive counterpart, however - something related to the weird behavior that you found adorable.

 

“My husband never uses the A/C in his car. He takes his car to the race track near our house to drive it around, so he uses the most expensive gas, and he doesn’t wanna waste it. So he never uses the A/C. Instead, he keeps the windows open. This means I have to remember to wear a ponytail or a hat whenever he drives anywhere, otherwise…” In a cut-away, you then showed yourself in the passenger seat, your hair being blown into your face. I laughed. “But when I do remember to pull my hair back, and I can actually see my husband, I can see him lip-syncing to the music he’s listening to, and it’s really charming. Also he does this ‘c’mere’ gesture with his hand sometimes and it’s kinda hot.” In another cutaway, you - playing Henry - did that sort of gesture over the steering wheel, and then showed yourself in the passenger seat again, quickly and comically biting your lower lip. I laughed again.

 

The video covered his tendency to swear at video games, and his resultant tolerance of your “I win!” taunt-dancing and your pouty “I don’t wanna play anymore” reactions to losing. The cutaway for that had you acting like a reasonable adult, and then for contrast acting like a bratty six-year-old, throwing your controller on the ground and folding your arms - and you put on a pink frilly dress and pigtails for that part. I could not stop smiling at how much fun you were clearly having making videos.

 

Most of the rest of the video was too sweet though. I had a hard time laughing when you talked about how he kept forgetting his password for Netflix but remembered yours, so when you moved in together it was easy to decide which account to keep. How annoying it was to you that he never went to the doctor when he wasn’t feeling well but insisted that you go when you were even a bit poorly. How he genuinely seemed to care about you more than he cared about himself. The video just underscored exactly how happy he really made you, and how much you adored one another. I came away from that video proud of you, and happy for you, but more convinced than ever that I needed to stay away. I’d ruin a great thing otherwise.

 

I got a message from you on Facebook that consisted only of a photo. It was a display of succulents for sale at the supermarket, and you’d centered the photo on the words “thrives on neglect.”

 

**Elise Ludwig**

This made me think of you, haha… the perfect houseplants for lazy introverts, amirite?

 

**Daniel Howell**

indeed, succulents are v relatable

i def thrive on neglect

 

**Elise Ludwig**

We can neglect each other then, lol… Henry’s just too damn talkative. I demand to be ignored from time to time!

 

**Daniel Howell**

oh well bye forever then!

 

**Elise Ludwig**

LOL  
You know, sometimes your humor is too dry, especially in text form. I can’t tell when you’re joking and when you’re being serious.  
I mean I can tell, but I have to think about it for a second lol

 

**Daniel Howell**

well let me say this then.  
no matter what happens, don’t ever think I’ve stopped caring about you.  
my job makes me busy, and I travel with phil for both work and play fairly often  
so sometimes I won’t have the chance to talk to you as much as I want to  
but I always want to, I promise.

 

**Elise Ludwig**

You ok?  
You’re talking like something’s wrong. :( 

  
**Daniel Howell**

everything’s fine. I just wanted to make that clear.  
you worry too much, you’re too nice. :)

 

**Elise Ludwig**

You love it.  
Hey… I do want to talk to you though. We need to Skype. It’s kind of important.

 

My stomach was in knots. I had a feeling I knew what you wanted to talk about.

 

**Elise Ludwig**

I need to explain stuff and apologize and…  
I’ve been putting it off since I got back home.  
I gotta do it.

 

**Daniel Howell**

gotta just rip the plaster off, yeah?

 

**Elise Ludwig**

Exactly.

 

**Daniel Howell**

I’ll be free at like 7 or 8 your time.  
I have to edit until then  
got way behind.

 

**Elise Ludwig**

Alright. I’ll sign on at 7, just call me whenever you’re done.

 

***

 

At 1:15 AM, 7:15 for you, I hit the export button on the desktop computer and then moved over to the laptop. I opened Skype, called you, and started walking over to my room.

 

I sat down on my bed, Skype still ringing.

 

You were online, I could see it.

 

You didn’t answer. I tried again.

 

You answered this time, probably just before the ringing ended.

 

“Hey,” you said quietly.

 

“Hey… are you alright?”

 

“I’m okay! I’m just… really nervous.”

 

“What’s up?”

 

You sighed, trying to collect yourself. You were scared to death of talking about this. I was too, if it makes you feel any better.

 

“I… I should not have done and said some of what I did and said when I was in London.”

 

I bit the inside of my cheek.

 

You continued. “I looked back on some of it and… The thing about being off my meds, now that I’ve been on them for a few months, is that I feel like I’ve had a few too many drinks, you know? Except I can remember all the stuff I regret later. What do you call them, cringe attacks? Yeah. Lot of those.”

 

“Nothing you did or said was really all that cringey,” I said.

 

“Grabbing your shirt like that when I was hugging you wasn’t cringey? Come on, Dan.” You looked at me like I was being an idiot. Probably because I was being an idiot.

 

I started to say something like “but I loved that” or “that was a really nice moment” or “I wish you’d just kissed me and gotten it over with” but none of that would have been productive so I held my tongue.

 

“It wasn’t okay to ask you for a neck rub. It wasn’t okay to say you swearing at me was something I found sexy. It wasn’t okay to lean on you like I did.”

 

I wanted to say it was all okay. Because for me, it was all more than okay. But I know that to you it wasn’t.

 

“And when you said that the hug was the opposite of weird... “

 

My breath stopped for a second and I swallowed hard. _Oh god_ , I thought. _Talk about cringey. I should not have said that._

 

“The way you said that, the tone you used… I heard something else. Underneath those words, I heard…”

 

“I know what you heard,” I said, stopping you before you had to say it out loud. Or, more to the point, before I had to hear it. “And… I think that at the time, I wanted you to hear it.”

 

“It startled me,” you said with a bittersweet smile. “I mean I wasn’t surprised, but… I was surprised you’d make it so obvious so soon. I was surprised you’d take the risk.”

 

“I didn’t even take the risk though, did I? Not really. You and I both know that the only reason I said the hug was the opposite of weird rather than just being honest was because of that risk.”

 

“And even now neither of us is saying it.”

 

“Nope.” I looked at my hands while fidgeting with a pen cap. “Because that would make it real, wouldn’t it?”

 

“And that would be bad.”

 

We just sort of looked at each other until I finally spoke again.

 

“Well,” I put the pen cap down. “Now that we’ve got that cleared up…”

 

“Sort of,” you said. Fair enough.

 

“If I’m honest,” I said, “I was scared I’d ruined everything by saying that. First off, you saying you found it - in your words - ‘kinda hot’ when I swore at you, that was insanely confusing. It made it seem like you were just going to flirt with me now, like the real friendship was over and I was now officially some sort of side guy to you or something. But I know that’s not what kind of person you are, so I was completely thrown off by that. And then after you left, once I wasn’t caught up in the moment with you anymore, I was _sure_ I’d just killed our friendship entirely. Like I was this homewrecker who was going to destroy your marriage, and Henry is so great for you and a really nice guy, so I felt fucking horrible! I’m not usually worried about crushes ruining friendships, but when your marriage is as good as it clearly is, I mean...”

 

Over the course of my rant, my volume had steadily risen.

 

“Dan, I’m not gonna let something as nice as love get in the way of a friendship like ours.”

 

You said it so calmly. Hearing you actually use the “L” word made me tense up, as though you’d smacked me upside the head and kicked me in the gut both at once. My loud, rather panicked voice having been silenced, the mood of the conversation shifted violently into stillness.

 

“You’re not the greatest at being a friend, this is true,” you said after a moment. “But you’re still one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had. You and my husband are literally the only two people who’ve ever made any real effort to understand me. Even my own mother and sister don’t get me the way you guys do.” You stopped for a second and made sure you were facing the screen and your camera as straight on as possible, putting your hands on the desk in front of you. Serious business. “Dan, love isn’t a bad thing. There are a bunch of different kinds of love, but by their nature they’re all ways that we strike a balance between selfishness and selflessness. Love is about wanting the best for yourself and for someone else, and that’s not bad. Ending a friendship over it is ridiculous. There’s been no great betrayal, no impropriety, not even an argument.”

 

_How do I get over you?_

 

“Please don’t assume our friendship is over when it’s not,” you said. “If you act like we can’t be friends anymore, then it’s just gonna come true. We won’t be. Please don’t let that happen.”

 

Your eyes were shining. Wet.

 

 _But how? How do I get over you? How do I stay your friend? How do I get to keep you without destroying what makes you happy?_ I wanted so desperately to ask. I just heard Phil’s voice in my head again, telling me to back off. Telling me I had to take responsibility for the mess I’d inadvertently created. I knew you’d just enable me if I kept contacting you with the same regularity. And I wouldn’t be able to resist responding and giving you all my attention if you contacted me.

 

“I gotta go,” I said.

 

“We’ll talk later?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Your face didn’t visibly change when I said that. It was like the aura around it changed. The same slightly worried expression was there, but somehow with more intensity.

 

“I mean, like I said, I’m pretty busy right now. So… I’ll send you messages on Facebook and stuff.”

 

“Yeah, alright.”

 

We said our goodbyes, and I hung up.

 

This was starting now.

 

I blocked you on Skype. I unfollowed you on Facebook so I wouldn’t see your posts on my timeline. I turned off Facebook notifications on my phone so I wasn’t tempted to answer you immediately. I didn’t block your Twitter, but I unfollowed you there too.

 

You were still accessible if I needed you, but I did what I could to not feel compelled to talk to you.

 

I closed my laptop and put it on my bedside table. I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I rinsed my face off and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, and a tear rolled down my cheek. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d started crying, but there it was.

 

Back in my bedroom, I collapsed onto my bed, slamming my head back onto my pillow. I stared at the ceiling.

 

I pulled another pillow over my face and screamed into it as loud as I could.

 

Maybe I was an addict. Because this hurt.


	8. Addicted to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan readjusts to his reduced contact with Elise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: a character has a serious panic attack about halfway through the chapter.

Want to know a funny thing I learned? From a chemical standpoint, as far as the brain is concerned, new “love” -- basically, any major crush or new relationship within about the first six months -- is literally the same thing as doing cocaine and having obsessive-compulsive disorder. 

 

So I was having a very hard time not texting you everything I saw that reminded me of you, not unblocking you on Skype, not following you on Twitter again, and not letting your posts show up on Facebook. Once, I got my phone out once because when I was out I saw a Doom Marine Funko Pop figure and it reminded me of you. I’d already sent you like four other things in as many days though, so Phil literally had to grab my hand and push it down to stop me.

 

I’ve also learned that apparently, heartbreak can literally give you heartburn. For most of October I was eating Rennie chewables as though they were fucking Haribos. 

 

By the end of the month, it was really hard to find the motivation to do much of anything. I hoped I was just close to getting over you, and this was the whole “it’s always darkest just before the light” thing happening. I kept in mind that perhaps I was almost through the terrifying, dark woods of romantic failure. It was a tiny point of light, but it was something. It really didn’t make our Halloween content any easier to make, though.

 

On this particular day, I was lying on the floor of the gaming room, wrapped in a duvet and having a good old-fashioned existential crisis. Felt like old times, really.

 

“You should prop yourself up, you know,” Phil said, having stepped in a few moments ago to find me in this pathetic state.

 

“Hm?” I replied, barely paying attention to anything but the Tumblr feed in front of me. Which I was looking at sideways, because I couldn’t be arsed to sit up and look at my laptop screen properly.

 

“Laying down like that isn’t going to help your heartburn. You should prop yourself up.”

 

“Meh.”

 

Phil sat on the futon behind me, no doubt watching my screen to make sure I wasn’t looking at any of your social media accounts. Not that he was in the wrong to do that, since I’d already commented on the two posts per week that I was allowing myself. And it was only Tuesday.

 

“Come on, Dan. Let’s film a video.”

 

“Don’t want to.”

 

“We’ve had this talk already, Dan. This is your job. I could fire you, you know.”

 

“No you can’t, I’m technically the owner of the channel.”

 

“And what kind of example are you setting for your employee here?”

 

I grumbled and sat up, pulling the duvet off my head and quickly running my hand over my head a few times to fluff my hair back up.

 

“Do I look alright?”

 

“You look fine, but you also look like you just heard your dog died.”

 

“Don’t say that! Now I’m gonna be wondering if Colin is okay the whole time we’re filming.”

 

“Colin’s fine! But you should probably brighten your face up a bit.”

 

Phil gave me the same fucking command every professional photographer has ever given me. Brighten your face up, they’d say. You look depressed, brighten up! Brighter! And then I end up with a stupid dopey fake smile that makes me look like I’m choking on a donkey snout.

 

I gave Phil the stupid donkey choke smile and he glared at me.

 

“Not that bright!” Phil laughed. “Just look awake, for heaven’s sake.”

 

I relaxed and tried to look like I hadn’t been lying on the floor with a duvet shielding me from the judgmental gazes of the fleece character onesies in the closet for the last two hours.

 

“That’s better,” Phil nodded, patted my shoulder approvingly, and sat down in front of the gaming computer.

 

***

 

Phil leaned forward and turned off the camera.

 

“How are you doing?” he asked.

 

“Oh,” I said flippantly, “one day closer to death, same as most days.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

I frowned. “Yeah, I know. It’s getting a little easier to push through and live my life without being constantly distracted by stupid emotions, but…” I sighed, trying to think of a way to word this without sounding pathetic. “Not talking to Elise on Skype makes it really feel like something is missing. I’m still not used to a routine without talking to her at least a few times a week. Logically I know I can survive without her, because I did. Just a few months ago, I was perfectly alright having no idea she even existed. There’s no reason for me to feel like I’m missing jigsaw pieces or something, but I do.”

 

“Dan, I probably shouldn’t be saying this, because I shouldn’t encourage obsession or anything, but… you  _ are _ missing jigsaw pieces, it doesn’t matter that they were added later. She became part of the puzzle that is you. The thing is, human beings aren’t these perfect rectangular pictures. We’re all odd, irregularly-shaped landscapes that change all the time. Pieces are added, pieces are taken away, and sometimes pieces move from one area to another. Her pieces aren’t missing forever, they’re just moving to another place in your picture. You just need to give it some time, and you’ll get used to their new location.”

 

Phil sat up straight, making this adorably proud face. When little kids accidentally make wise observations when talking to grown-ups, they make that face.

 

“As if time heals all wounds,” I said mockingly, and then made a gag noise. Elise had already taught me that it doesn’t, and now I felt like she was teaching me again.

 

“It does heal a lot of them, you know.”

 

“Doesn't do me any good right  _ now _ , though, does it?”

 

“Maybe not, but... “ Phil put his hand on my back reassuringly. “Let me give you something to keep in mind when things get difficult.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“I know you don't believe in illogical, superstitious, magic things like love at first sight. But the night you met Elise... that had to be the closest to it a real person can get. That was a smile I haven't seen on your face since… well, you know.”

 

Based on his rather awkward, nervous gesticulation, I knew he meant the day I met him. I nodded to signal my understanding.

 

“Anyway, until I learned she was married, I was already a Dalise shipper.”

 

I laughed at the pormanteau of our names. “Dalise?”

 

“Well… I guess we could go with Elaniel?”

 

“That sounds like an elf name from Lord of the Rings, doesn’t it?”

 

We shared a laugh before Phil continued.

 

“Anyway, she's good for you. She makes you happy, and more than that… when you’re not distracted by talking to her you’re generally just… better. Happier, kinder. And you know you’re standing up straighter? You’re more sure of yourself.”

 

I hadn’t noticed it. I’m not sure how accurate his interpretation of things was, considering how much of a lesser creature I thought I was compared to her husband. But now I thought about it, my back did hurt less.

 

“But the good she does for you has nothing to do with anything romantic. She's just good for you, and you’re good for her. She’s someone you could -- and should -- have in your life for years to come. It doesn't really matter in what capacity.  _ Something _ would be better for you than nothing. The years of friendship you’ll have will be worth the pain in the end.”

 

“I just wish the pain wasn’t so much right now. Maybe reddit is right and I should just give up, not talk to her at all. You were right about every time I talked to her it would reactivate those feelings. It does. Going halfway with contacting her is like pulling sutures out of a wound so it never fully heals.”

 

“Dan, you know from experience already that it  _ will _ heal. It’ll take longer than it would if you left those sutures alone, but it’ll heal. Stopping talking to her entirely would be easier, yes. But it wouldn’t be better, now would it?”

 

***

 

And the pain did stop. For the next week and a half it tapered off until one day I realized that I’d gone an entire day without thinking about you at all. Over the course of the following week, I only texted you one thing that had made me think of you, and not because I forced myself to limit it that much. It just sort of happened that way.

 

My existence was becoming independent of yours again, but I wasn’t apathetic towards you. I was still delighted to see messages from you. You’d just become a nice addition to my life rather than something I felt like I desperately needed. Was I still jealous that you were married to someone else? Absolutely. But I focused on it less, and even cringed from time to time thinking about how selfish I’d been and how… well, how addicted to you I’d been.

 

One night in mid-November, I was up late editing. Before I went to sleep, I wanted to make sure another video was close enough to finished that Phil could take a look at it when he woke up. I was nearly done, and at about 3 AM my eyes were starting to lose focus. I glanced over at my laptop, which was over to my left, and I had Facebook open. To my surprise, I saw a chat window with you was open.

 

**Elise Ludwig**

Dan? I really need you… you haven’t been on Skype though so I hope you see this  
I need your help, please be there   
please please please please   
  


I tried to focus on editing. I figured you needed help with a video or something, so I kept editing for a few more minutes, thinking I’d get back to you when I found a good stopping place. Of course I couldn’t help myself and I looked again a few minutes later.

 

**Elise Ludwig**   
Fuck, Dan… I’m so sorry if I’m bothering you   
I just don’t have anyone else I can talk to, no one else will make me feel better   
Why haven’t you been on Skype?   
Oh god I can’t breathe…   
Fuck Dan I think I’m having a panic attack   
I haven’t had one in ages, hahahaha…   
  


**Daniel Howell**   
i’m getting on skype. calling you now.

  
I opened Skype, unblocked you, and called you right then. You answered quickly, your eyes reddened and swollen with tears.

 

“Hi,” you said, your voice trembling. You were visibly shaking, weeping as you gasped for air.

 

I nearly gasped myself. Seeing you like this was harrowing. “Hey, Leese. Just breathe, I’m here.” Naturally I wanted to know what had triggered this, but now wasn’t the time to ask. First priority was to make sure you were okay. If you wanted to tell me, then you’d tell me, but until then, it wasn’t my business to pry into.

 

You breathed in slowly, sobbed a bit, and exhaled shakily. “I feel like I’m in a nightmare and I can’t get out of it,” you said. “I hate this, sometimes when I panic it’s like everything is a dream and I’m not real. I hate it, I hate it so much…” You covered your head with your hands and leaned your head down. I stopped you.

 

“Don’t do that, look at something on the wall,” I said. “Focus on it. It’s real. You’re real. You’re really hearing my voice through your computer. It’s okay. I’m here.”

 

You nodded and looked up, probably at a picture or decoration. Whatever it was, I hoped it was something comforting to look at and not something creepy like a skull or something.

 

“Just keep breathing, Leese.” I really hated that I wasn’t there in person. “I’d hold your hand if I could.”

 

You put your own left hand over top of your right and showed me, smiling slightly. I smiled a little. You breathed. You leaned your head back against the wall behind you - you were on the floor, I realized - and closed your eyes, sighing with evenly timed breaths for another few moments.

 

“Thank you,” you said with a sniff, your sobs having considerably lessened after a few minutes.

 

“I didn’t realize you had anxiety this bad,” I said.

 

“It’s so much fun!” you said with a bitterly jovial tone, looking like all you wanted to do was go to sleep for a week. “Pretty common for anxiety to be comorbid with ADHD, apparently. I’ve had anxiety since I was little. Like 3 or 4 years old. I had ridiculous things I was scared of. Never went away really. My medication doesn’t help it at all. Probably makes it worse, now that I think about it.”

 

“Have you talked to your doctor about it?”

 

“No,” you grumbled. “He’ll lower my dosage or something, or maybe put me on something else, and it’ll make my lack of motivation come back and then I’ll just get depressed because I’m not getting anything done, and…”

 

“It’s okay, Elise. It’ll be okay.”

 

“No, it won’t,” you started crying a little bit again. You weren’t panicking anymore. Now you were just sad. I wanted to hold you and comfort you so badly. I was too far away, I had no idea what had happened before you contacted me to trigger this attack, and you were the saddest I had ever seen you. I felt absolutely helpless. “If I take more medication, I’m more anxious. If I take less, I’m more depressed. I can’t fucking win with this!” You yelled, and threw something. It startled me a little - I’d never heard you yell out of anger or frustration before, nevermind throw anything. You were not yourself. At least, you weren’t yourself as I understood you.

 

“I know it takes patience, but remember when you first got diagnosed how you said it was going to be a lot of guesswork to find your right medication? Maybe you need something different.”

 

“I’ve done so much guessing already,” you said, the heels of your palms covering your eyes. “I’m exhausted, Dan. I can’t do this anymore.”

 

“Yes you can,” I said.

 

“I just want to go back to before my diagnosis. I could think on my feet so much better, I was so much more interested in life, and I might have been kinda spacey but I could at least pretend to be happy. Now it’s like I’m so much more aware of everywhere I fall short, as a sister and as a daughter and as a designer and as a wife, and i’m just…”

 

“Don’t say that, Elise. You don’t fall short.”

 

“Dan, you do not know me well enough. You don’t see me day to day, you don’t know how badly I fail at everything.”

 

“You’re a work in progress, that’s all. Everyone is. You think I’m happy with everything I am? I’m a horribly neglectful friend, I’m not the best son or brother, I’m… well I’m not anyone’s husband, but…” I exhaled, and shrugged my shoulders slightly. “I bet you anything I’d be nowhere near the husband Henry is.”

 

You squeezed your eyes shut, letting a couple of lingering tears fall.

 

“You do the best you can with what you’ve got,” I told you. “That’s all anyone can expect of themselves. You’re a good person because you really do try to be a good person. Remember way back in like, July, when we talked about how you thought of yourself as responsible?”

 

You smiled at the recollection. “Yeah.”

 

“Well, that good responsible person, that’s who you are on the inside, and you’re still working at making it consistently who you are on the outside. And you will get better at that the more practice you get. You’re still young, you have plenty of time to practice. Of course you’ll probably die still incomplete, as most humans do. But even if you’re never perfect, you’ll still be a beautiful person.”

 

You continued smiling, letting your eyes drift away for a moment as you let my words sink in. Your eyes were still puffy.

 

“I really miss our talks,” you said.

 

“Me too,” I quietly replied, looking down at my desk and feeling bad for… well, for everything. For acting like a teenager because of a crush on you, for creating this distance. 

 

“I feel like…” you swallowed nervously and thought about what you were going to say. “Like I’m probably going to need you more soon.”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s probably nothing, to be honest, I won’t bother you with the details.”

 

“Alright,” I nodded.

 

“But I thought I’d let you know just in case. I don’t want to be a bother, but…” You sighed, trying to make it look like you weren’t bothered. “Stuff is getting stressful, y’know, blah blah blah. Would help to have you available to talk to. I won’t make you if you’re too busy, but… yeah.” You looked at your screen and made a face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to guilt you into coming on Skype more, but... ”

 

“No, no, that’s not how I took it at all, don’t worry.”

 

“I know you haven’t had the time to be on Skype lately, but… I mean I won’t talk to you when I don’t really need to if that helps you focus on work and editing and everything.”

 

It felt like I’d become the house on the other side of the gap in your painting, and you were reaching for me but I was never close enough to you. I thought about the tree behind the house, looking like a weakened arm reaching right back over the other way. You and I belonged with one another, and just as you were reaching for me, I was reaching for you. Over a chasm that I’d created myself.

 

_ This is stupid,  _ I thought. I wasn’t over you, and I was sure at this point that I never would be if I wasn’t yet.  _ Fine, I can get used to it. _ Like Phil, you were part of my life permanently. I understood that now. And Phil had been right - it didn’t matter that we weren’t romantically connected, it only mattered that we stayed connected. 

 

At the very least, I had to do everything in my power to make sure you were okay. You were my friend. It couldn’t be all about me and my suffering and misery anymore. Whatever was happening, you weren’t the type to play up suffering for attention - you needed someone to be there for you. I wasn’t going to abandon you.

 

“I’m here whenever you need me.” I said.

 

“Thank you so much, Dan.”

 

“Are you okay to get some sleep? You look like you need it.”

 

“I think so.” You wiped away the last couple of tears gathered in your eyelashes.

 

“If you need me when you wake up, just let me know. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“I’ll probably be okay, but thanks. I really appreciate it.”

 

“Goodnight, love.”  _ Did I seriously just call her that? Ugh, I’m an idiot. Or not. I mean, it’s just something people say, right? My dad used to call the old lady cashier at Asda “love”, nannies call children “loves.” It doesn’t mean anything. Right? It’s fine. This is totally fine. I didn’t overstep. Everything is fine. _

 

I guess you could see that I was having an internal monologue, because you paused and looked at your screen, then smirked a little. 

 

“Goodnight,” you said finally, and hung up for the evening.


	9. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise and Dan are speaking again, talking about what's going on in their lives just like they used to. But Elise has been talking to Phil also, and Phil has a thought to share with Dan.

“He says that an awful lot,” I said uneasily.

 

“What, the c-word? Yeah, he does.”

 

“Doesn't that bother you? I mean in America isn't that like on the same level as the n-word, just for women?”

 

“Generally it is, yes. But that’s ‘in America,’ not in this house. If he said it in public, we’d have a problem - when first we met, he said it on his twitter all the time. But I got him to stop.”

 

“So why is he allowed to say it in the house? Like, why… Okay this is a weird question, but why aren’t you like most American women on that one?” I laughed, you laughed.

 

“That is indeed a weird question,” you said. “Making me feel like a Manic Pixie Dream Girl or something. But no, I don’t mind him saying it when it’s basically just swearing at footballers that let him down or game latency or something. If he were using it out of anger towards me or any other woman -- well, another woman who wasn’t truly _horribly_ evil -- then you bet he’d be in trouble.”

 

“It’s okay to use it about women who are truly evil? Who decides that?”

 

“In this case, me, since it’s my house and the word is about ‘my people’ so I get to decide when it’s okay to use it.”

 

“I suppose that’s fair,” I replied.

 

“Plus” --you dropped your voice to a loud whisper-- “it helps me get off when he calls me that in bed.” You laughed mischievously.

 

I narrowed my eyes and thought for a second. Against my better judgment, trying not-hard-enough to stop myself, I then asked, “When you were over here, and I was swearing at you… when you said it was ‘kinda hot,’ you weren’t kidding? You really  _ meant _ that?” (Look, it's not my fault this is where the conversation went. Can you blame me for continuing? Yes you can. That was stupid. I won’t even pretend it wasn’t.)

 

“Oh yes!” you confirmed, a hearty laugh pushing its way out of you alongside the words. “You better believe I meant that!” You winked. I felt my entire head heat up. “I was both unmedicated  _ and _ three drinks in. Couldn’t help but be honest,” you explained, leaning your head back and slightly side-eyeing me as though you were sizing me up for my reaction.

 

“I… am a little uncomfortable!” I giggled nervously.

 

“I’m sorry,” you said with a charming smile. “I won’t remind you of all that again if you don’t want.”

 

“It’s alright,” I answered, waving it off. Oddly enough, I was being honest here. I didn’t feel my stomach scrunch up at the thought of that night anymore. “Henry doesn’t know we flirted so much that night, does he?”

 

“Of course he does.”

 

I choked on my own breath a little. “He what?”

 

“I am a terrible secret keeper, even medicated. He knows that, I know that. So I just tell him about anything that makes me feel especially guilty. I’m also awful at surprising him on his birthday or our anniversary.”

 

I just sort of sat there, my mouth agape, like a surprised fish.

 

“Does he… does he know  _ everything _ ?”

 

“Not  _ everything _ . I mean…” you sighed and readjusted your position. “He has a right to know that I’ve flirted with you, but the precise words used aren’t any of his business. He does know that we didn’t sleep together or kiss though.”

 

“And he trusts you on that?”

 

“Oh yes. Like I said, I’m a terrible secret keeper. If we’d slept together and I told him we hadn’t, he would have seen right through it.”

 

“What happened when you told him?”

 

“Well, obviously I’m still happily married, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“But did you not like… have a fight or anything?”

 

“Sure we did.”

 

“You don’t seem especially traumatized by it.”

 

“Our fights start off a bit heated, but by the end they’re really more like discussions. If one of us fucks up, there’s a reason for it. There’s some problem somewhere that needs to be addressed, whether it’s a mental health issue or some external stress or internal dissatisfaction. So we focus more on figuring out what the problem is.” 

 

“That seems so… inhumanly reasonable.”

 

You laughed. “It’s not like there isn’t some mean shit thrown around when we first start these ‘discussions,’ it’s just that it doesn’t last long. We’re not inhuman, we’re just… we try to keep in mind that we’re supposed to be a team, you know? I mean, if you were playing a team sport and you kept losing, would you play the blame game and yell at your teammates, or would you try to figure out  _ why _ you suck so much? The temptation is there to blame everyone else, sure, but you can’t keep that up. You have to address the reality of the situation. It’s more productive to look at things with as much objectivity as possible, and figure out if you need to treat an injury, or if you need to practice a skill, or if your team just needs a morale boost.”

 

“That does make sense.”

 

“So that’s what we did. We had a talk about how to get morale up.” You smiled reassuringly.

 

“Is morale up then?” I half wanted an answer in the negative here, embarrassingly enough. But it would have been nice to hear a "yes" too.

 

“There are extenuating circumstances, but yeah, it’s as up as it can be.”

 

“Extenuating circumstances?" That was a more complex response than I expected, and I was suddenly concerned that you might have cause for more anxiety. I felt bad for wanting details, so not wanting to seem like a gossip, I apologized. "I’m sorry, I’m prying, I don’t mean to...”

 

“No no no, it’s alright. Henry’s health is just a bit dodgy right now, so we’re both pretty stressed out, but. Nothing we haven’t gotten through together over the last five years.”

 

The phrase “socially awkward” is a term that one could argue I throw around a bit too liberally when describing myself. For the most part I’ve grown quite confident over the years, and since about 2014 or 2015 it’s been feeling disingenuous to say I’m still socially awkward. However, in situations like this, I’m still not entirely sure what to say. Do I ask what “a bit dodgy” means and risk prying too much, or do I not ask and risk looking like I don’t care?

 

I was overthinking this and kept opening my mouth to speak and then closing it again.

 

“You’re wondering what’s wrong with him?” you asked.  _ Oh thank god. _

 

“I really don’t want to pry any further if you don’t want to talk about it,” I said with an even tone, looking at you with something that wasn’t quite pity and wasn’t quite adoration, but I wouldn’t have blamed you if you interpreted it either way. “Strictly speaking it isn’t any of my business, but it’s hard not to be concerned.”

 

You smiled warmly but bitterly, as though touched that I gave a shit but also wishing you didn’t have to think about Henry’s health. “Obstructive sleep apnea. It’s aggravated by his allergies, and ever since we got home at the end of September, those allergies have been really bad. So he’s been sleeping badly. Nightmares, waking up, gasping, bad snoring. Honestly, neither of us is sleeping well.”

 

I put a few pieces together in my head. “Oh god, last week when you called in such a panic, was that because of him?”

 

You just nodded. “He’d stopped breathing for a really long time the night before, and it was sheer luck that I’d woken up and noticed it. His chest was kinda doing this spasm-looking thing because he was trying to breathe and it wasn’t happening. I rolled him on his side and he gasped, mumbled something about ‘what’s wrong’, I said ‘nothing, go back to sleep,’ he did… Never been so happy to hear snoring in my entire life. But by the time I called you, I’d had almost a whole day for the freakout in my brain to compound onto itself a hundred times.”

 

I felt myself grow cold. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

 

“‘Sokay,” you mumbled. “Anyway, what would normally follow right now is a generic complaint about the American health care system, blah blah blah, nothing you probably haven’t heard, and nothing I wanna go into right now, so.” You gave a joyless thumbs-up. 

 

We switched topics into a debate over World of Warcraft vs Guild Wars 2. I feel like I won it, you probably felt like you won it. Both of us were smiling by the end of it, so if I’m honest, we’re probably both correct.

 

***

 

Towards the end of November, the world was already starting to look towards Christmas. Me and Phil decided to take the opportunity to get some shopping done early (well, fine, it was Phil’s idea - neither of us is very good at planning ahead, but I’m especially inept at it).

 

The last few weeks of not constantly thinking of Elise finally caught up to me over the course of our day out. It seemed like everywhere I went, I found something she’d like - except now, I’d see things her husband might like as well. I mentioned this to Phil. He looked impressed and muttered something about personal growth.

 

I saw that Doom Marine Funko Pop again though, and decided to get it for you. In your London vlog you specifically mentioned not having it yet. All I could do was hope that was still the case come Christmas.

 

“To answer the question I know you have crawling around in your mind,” Phil said once we’d returned home and had begun wrapping things, “Don’t worry, Elise doesn’t have that figure yet.”

 

“What?” I said, taking a second to replay what he said back in my head and process it properly. While it didn’t surprise me that he could read the mid-grade concern that was plastered on my face as soon as I bought the figure and never fully faded away - after all, this is Phil we’re talking about, he can read me like a board book - it did surprise me that he knew whether or not she already had it. “Wait, how do you know that?”

 

“I talk to her too, you know,” Phil replied, cellotaping green paper to the edge of the book he was wrapping for his brother. “You’re not her only friend. And you’re not my only friend either.”

 

“What do you talk about?” I felt myself getting territorial again. I noticed there were scissors in my hand, and nervously put them down as though concerned my territorial side might take over and murder Phil with them otherwise.

 

“You, mostly.”  _ Oh, well okay then. _

 

_...Wait a second. _ “What about me?”

 

“I’m not at liberty to reveal. A doctor respects his patient’s right to confidentiality!”

 

“What are you, her therapist now?” I grabbed a gift bow, not to put it on a gift - I hadn’t begun wrapping the figure in front of me yet - but just to fidget with it.

 

Phil laughed, still wrapping and not looking at me. “Only on matters of the heart!” He paused.  _ Now _ he was looking at me. “I’ve probably revealed too much.”

 

“What is she saying about me?” I demanded playfully.

 

“No, I’m not telling!” Phil broke eye contact and moved on to the next present.

 

“You spork, why are you teasing me like this?” I tossed the gift bow at his face.

 

By now we were laughing, uncontrollably and yet somewhat nervously, as though we were being tickled. And, just like when you’re being tickled, you mostly want it to stop.

 

“I didn’t mean to!” Phil said, picking up the bow and tossing it back at me. “I forgot who I was talking to!”

 

“Phil, seriously,” I said, my eyes full of pleading desperation. Or probably just patheticness (which spellcheck tells me is an actual word, apparently. Good news for me!). “What has she said?”

 

Phil exhaled, lowering his shoulders in resignation. “Okay but you have to swear that you’ll never tell her I said anything.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The mood of the room became somewhat grave as Phil spoke. “Elise… is a very romantically insecure person. And for good reason. Her relationships have all either been awful or ended terribly. She told me you already know about the emotionally abusive guy she was with, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” I answered. 

 

“Well just before meeting her husband, she was in a really serious relationship that ended with the guy going to jail--”

 

“For what? She never told me about that!”

 

“See? This is the kind of thing I was worried about. Don’t tell her I mentioned that, okay?”

 

“Oh god. Okay.” I hoped she would tell me about it at some point because that sounded horrible.

 

“Another relationship ended with her getting friendzoned, another one didn’t even start because she got friendzoned and then the guy died of some random heart condition before she got any closure with him… She knows that if she ever ends up with you it’ll mean two heartbreaks for her because she’d have to lose Henry first, and she thinks she’s cursed so she’d probably lose you too.”

 

“Christ on a fucking jetski, that’s depressing.”  _ Where the hell did I get ‘jetski’ from? _

 

Phil paused a moment and tilted his head a bit. “You don’t see Elise as a complete person.”

 

“What are you on about?”

 

“Elise is a two dimensional character for you. You’re the main character, I’m the comic relief sidekick --”

 

“You’re not the comic relief sidekick, Phil.”

 

“Stop talking, Dan -- and she’s the love interest with a tragic backstory and artist’s spirit and mental illness that makes her ‘quirky’ to you. And as much as I love Elise for you, you’ve got her reduced to a paper doll cut-out. You’re so focused on getting her and having her that you’re not putting much effort into truly  _ knowing _ her. She’s quite complex, you know. And her complexities are part of what makes her so good for you. You’re both very multi-layered people, and there are aspects of her that only you understand and vice-versa.”

 

“I see her as a complete person,” I said defensively.

 

“Then why am I always so proud of you when you surprise me by not treating Henry like the antagonist of your little story?”

 

_ Ooohhh. _

 

“I’m really glad you met him in the flesh, because you needed to stop thinking of him like some mysterious supervillain,” Phil continued. “But now, you don’t think of him at all unless he’s the direct topic of conversation. When you talk to Elise, you still act like he doesn’t exist. You don’t think ‘hey, I should stop flirting with Elise seeing as how that’s a mean thing to do to her very nice husband.’ And you should. But you don’t. Because she’s not a person to you, she’s an XBox achievement.”

 

I didn’t respond. I knew Phil was more right than I wanted to admit, and I wasn’t really in the mood to argue. It would have killed my happy mood to be contrarian.

 

“Anyway,” Phil said with a sigh, “if you still want to know what Elise says about you, she says you confuse her sometimes.”

 

“How? I’m certainly not trying to confuse her. Has she said what I’ve done that’s confusing?”

 

“Yes, but... um…”

 

“What?” I leaned forward.

 

“You’re not gonna like it.”

 

“No, really, what did she say?”

 

“She asked if  _ you _ had ever been seen for ADHD.”

 

I paused a moment and laughed. “That’s silly. Of course not. I’m fine, I’m…”

 

Phil gave me a look, psychically beaming the message into my head that I’d just used the word “fine” again and we both knew what that meant. I wasn’t laughing anymore.

 

“I don’t know enough about ADHD to even think about that,” I said. “Anxiety, depression, sure, but I just have moments of those.”

 

“Your ‘moments’ last for months, Dan.”

 

I was just sort of sat there thinking silently to myself. I couldn’t say with any confidence that I was completely emotionally well-adjusted, but I wasn’t sure about an actual disability. I had anxiety issues from time to time, and I’d feel hopeless and apathetic at times but I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it “depression.” I procrastinated and had a hard time focusing on anything I didn’t really enjoy, but those were perfectly normal things, right? I’d got good marks in school my whole life until college, so it didn’t make any sense really.

 

Phil suddenly hopped up and grabbed my hand. “Come on, Dan, let’s look into this.”

 

“Phiiiilllll!” I whined before standing up against my will and following.

 

“You’re making that face like this is going to bother you if we don’t look into it!”

 

***

 

“‘ADHD Primarily Inattentive Subtype, or ADHD-PI,’” Phil read, “‘is often identified later in life especially among gifted or high-IQ students. Due to their intelligence and quick learning, these students will often receive high marks. However, teacher complaints that the child often misses homework or isn’t living up to their potential should not be ignored. These students go undiagnosed because their lack of hyperactivity causes them to fly under the radar. What appears to be quiet listening to a teacher may actually be daydreaming or reading ahead in the textbook due to boredom. As an adult, the ADHD-PI student can often become overwhelmed by the difficulty of university academics. The joy normally experienced by neurotypicals when being faced with the freedom of adulthood is often spoiled for the young adult with ADHD who needs to fend for him or herself for the first time. Ordinary daily tasks like cooking, paying bills, and doing the wash can often become daunting, anxiety-inducing obstacles without the boundaries and guardrails provided by a parent or other authority figure.’”

 

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll admit that sounds somewhat familiar.” I wasn’t looking at the screen, I was sitting on the floor picking at lint that was pilling on the edge of the blanket wrapped around me.

 

Phil clicked around a bit more and skimmed for more things that sounded like me. “‘While ADHD is often associated with hyperactivity in children, particularly boys, there are mental symptoms and subtler behaviours that remain hidden from view of most people, sometimes even those who live with the ADHD sufferer. These symptoms and behaviours can include: procrastination; self-doubt; impulsive behaviours like overeating, compulsive shopping, abuse of alcohol or drugs, or unsafe sexual behavior; an inability to feel time pass the same way neurotypicals do; trouble controlling one’s emotions; or self-medication with caffeine.”

 

“Inability to feel time pass? What does that even mean?”

 

“It means there are only two times for you - ‘now’ and ‘not now’. And yes, that’s you.” Phil sounded a bit irritated by that one. He read part of another article he found. “‘When talking to those of us with ADHD, it may seem as though we don’t care about what you have to say. But we do. We can’t help that we can hear the birds singing around you, or that two of your eyelashes are stuck together and we’re momentarily mesmerized by it, or that we just remembered we have to go to the store later. If I space out mid-conversation, the problem isn’t you. So if I say “what?” three times because I didn’t hear you, please be patient with me. I really do want to know what you have to say.’”

 

My face fell. That sounded very, very familiar. I remembered talking to Elise on the way to the flat from the train station. I didn’t remember anything she said for the entire first half of the walk. I was so caught up thinking about how happy I was to see her that I wasn’t even appreciating her presence properly. And the sad thing was, this wasn’t a new problem for me. I’m pretty sure my tendency to not pay proper attention when other people are talking to me is a prime reason for my lack of deep, long-lasting friendships apart from Phil. That and my anxieties about leaving the house. Which stem from being unable to interact with other people. Which stems from the fact that I hate interacting with other people.  _ Vicious cycle... _

 

Crap. I was lost in my own head again. When I looked up, Phil was already on another page. “This one is a bunch of small comments from people talking about what it’s like to have ADHD,” he prefaced. “‘With ADHD, it’s like out of sight, out of mind. If I don’t get a reminder about something the moment I need to do it, I won’t ever do it.’ ‘My mom doesn’t understand how I can remember everything about the Legend of Zelda timelines but I can’t do my real world history homework. I need to be interested in something to retain it, and I just find Hyrule more interesting I guess.’ Oh, wow… Dan, this next one is very you. ‘I’m too much of a perfectionist. I’ve gone my whole life holding myself up to too high of a standard because I felt like such a flaky, daydreamy bother as a kid, and I want to make the people around me happy. But that perfectionism means I never have the motivation to get started, because I know I won’t live up to my own expectations for myself.’”

 

I hugged my knees. This was too real.

 

“Apparently ADHD gets misdiagnosed as autism sometimes because if you’re not that interested in people, you don’t pay as much attention to them so you don’t learn socialization stuff as quickly as other kids.”

 

“That would explain some of my awkwardness, wouldn’t it?” I said flatly.

 

Phil, noticing my tone, turned my direction to check on me. “Dan?”

 

“Hm?” I acknowledged him in a barely audible voice.

 

“I’m sorry. I can stop if you want.”

 

“It’s okay,” I said.

 

“To be honest, Dan, I don’t think you need to see anyone about this. Not at this point in your life. If you have the same mental issues that someone with ADHD has, then a lot about your personality makes sense. But you’re in a good place emotionally and mentally, and mostly professionally, so you probably don’t need to do anything with this information. It’s just… something to watch out for.”

 

I was hearing Phil, but I wasn’t listening or absorbing any of it. I was mostly feeling bad about myself. “I think… I understand how Elise felt when I mentioned looking into her mental health now.”

 

“Sorry,” Phil looked at me nervously, wondering if he should regret bringing it up.

 

“No,” I said, realizing something. “No, this is a good thing. I just realized I see too much of myself in Elise! I’m really  _ not _ seeing her as a complete person, like you say. Because I see so much of me in her that I think I can fill in the blanks when I really can’t! Shit, I need to listen to her more. Maybe I should see someone about my inability to focus.” I was thinking aloud, but Phil looked very optimistic. His face brightened, he smiled, and I tilted my head. “What are you so happy about?”

 

“You came to a very important realization all on your own. It’s a very healthy thing.”

 

I thought for a moment. “Do you really think I might have ADHD, or did you just do this so I would understand Elise better?”

 

“A little of both, to be honest. When Elise mentioned it, a light bulb went ‘beep!’ in my head.”

 

“Light bulbs don’t beep, Phil.”

 

“Well they don’t ding either, you don’t see that stopping all those cartoon sound effects people.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

I went to bed feeling like I’d had a mental  _ shiatsu _ massage. You know those Japanese massages that really hurt at the time, but only because they’re really reaching in deep and working the issues out of your muscles? What am I talking about, you know the feeling I’m describing. Me and your husband both gave you that painful massage months before.

 

It felt like the thread that tied us together, between opposite sides of the ocean, was getting stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a disclaimer, I am NOT diagnosing Dan!! Only a licensed health professional can do that, and in the case of ADHD, a specialist in ADHD may be necessary. The idea of Dan having ADHD isn't outside the realm of possibility based on what we as an audience know about him, but we don't see him outside of his videos so it's impossible to tell for sure. Dan possibly having ADHD is something necessary to the story, so that's what's happening here.


	10. Playing by Ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan & Elise chat on Christmas Eve, and much is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates! I spent some time editing my outline based on where the story has gone & the pace it's taken. There shouldn't be another gap like this one. :)

“Merry Christmas!” me & Phil said joyously to the faces of you and your husband on the laptop screen.

 

Between the laptop and me were plates of the sort of disastrously unhealthy food that every child and child-at-heart should be eating on Christmas Eve. You and Henry no doubt had biscuits and fattening meat of some sort on your end as well.

 

“Is it healthy for you guys to be eating like that at one in the morning?” you asked.

 

“Oh, sure, eating healthy might make me live longer,” I explained, “but what would be the point of that extended life span if I’m eating  _ healthy _ food? No thank you.”

 

“Good man!” Henry replied.

 

“Did you get your presents?” Phil asked, ever the excited child.

 

“We did, but we waited to open them until dinner,” you replied. “Do you guys have yours?”

 

Phil and I responded wordlessly, simply holding up the wrapped gifts and smiling.

 

“Yay!” you squealed and literally applauded.

 

“Don’t mind her,” Henry said, “She loves Christmas like Kanye West loves himself.”

 

“Normally I’d say ‘no disrespecting Kanye in my presence’ but you’re not wrong,” I said.

 

“So you guys say Merry Christmas over there?” your admittedly rather keen husband asked. “I always thought you said Happy Christmas instead.”

 

“Oh god no,” I said. “‘Happy Christmas’ is for stuffy people like the Queen. She thinks the word ‘merry’ implies getting drunk and acting like idiots. I think ‘happy’ sounds like stuffy posh people greeting each other coldly at a corporate party.”

 

“And Dan would rather not sound any more like a posh person than he already does,” Phil continued.

 

“Oi, watch it, rat!” I said.

 

“Who should go first?” you interrupted our linguistic tangent and shook your gift.

 

“You go first,” I said to you.

 

“Yay!” you squealed again. I giggled a bit and shook my head. Henry wasn’t kidding. You tore into the paper exactly as a child would, and bounced happily in your seat upon the reveal of the Doom marine’s familiar armored visage.

 

“Oh my god Phil is this why you asked me about this??” you asked with a wide smile. Phil nodded in response and your attention returned to me. “Thank you so much, Dan! I love it!”

 

“How did you not have that one yet?” Henry asked, looking honestly surprised.

 

“I don’t know, I just never got around to it. And now you can’t really find them in too many places anymore, so.” you shrugged, still looking delighted, and thanked me again.

 

Phil had gotten you a zen rock garden, which you would later use as a centrepiece in your dining room. I got Henry an AFC Wimbledon football, and Phil got him a copy of Krampus on Blu-ray.

 

“I had to order that from Amazon in America for you, because apparently UK blu-ray discs don’t work in America.” Phil looked proud of himself for thinking of it.

 

“Yeah,” I added. “You’re really lucky - do you know in America you can watch Japanese blu-rays, but we can’t here in Europe?”

 

“I did know that,” you said with a nod. “I don’t think I could ever live in Europe simply for that reason!” You know, I think you were only half-joking about this.

 

The evening continued with crackers and tissue paper crowns, biscuit eating, blinking fairy lights, and champagne. It was exactly the sort of Christmas Eve I crave every year but rarely get - with friends, having fun, but not overwhelmed at all because there aren’t a ton of people and a bunch of loud songs I hate attacking my senses from every direction.

 

It was just… really nice.

 

***

 

Phil was the first to give up and go to sleep, followed by Henry. I both hoped and feared that at some point you and I would be talking alone by the end of the night, and now that I was faced with that exact situation I was at a bit of a loss for words despite the alcohol coursing through my veins.

 

You said “Hey, I wanna show you what I’ve been up to!” and took your laptop with you into your office. I noticed a stack of canvases leaning against one wall once you put the laptop down.

 

“Are you still painting then?” I asked.

 

“I was. I knew I could never work with oils because of how much patience they take, but acrylics were just too hard to manipulate, so I got sick of it after awhile. I did get these done though.” You turned the stack of canvases to face the webcam and flipped through them. You had clearly experimented, trying to find your own voice, so to speak. Your art ranged from gloomy, monochromatic storms of emotion to sunny, colorful, playful pieces.

 

“You really tried a ton of different styles,” I said.

 

“Yeah, none of them really accurately captured the things I was feeling at the time. Except the one I gave you.”

 

“Did you want it back as like a.. Souvenir of that time, or something?”

 

“Oh no, not at all. I want you to have that one. It made me think of you when I saw it in my head, to be honest. That painting feels like… like you’re the only one who’d understand the feeling it’s trying to convey anyway. That painting is an illustration of a feeling that I think we both have in common.”

 

_ What does that say about me? About us? _

 

“So since I’m not painting anymore…” You sat down at your computer and pulled a Casio keyboard up onto your desk. “...I’m getting music out of my system instead.”

 

“You’re a musician now?”

 

“I’m trying! I can’t read music for shit, even after taking lessons years ago, but I have ideas in my head that I need to get out so. I figure I’ll do this until I get bored of it.”

 

You turned the keyboard on and played a few mid-range, echoing notes. The melody sounded a bit sad and lonely, but beautiful. You hit a button to turn a beat on and started singing in another language. Chinese, perhaps. After a moment you stopped. “That’s this old Chinese pop song I like, I just learned it by ear… I can’t play too much else right now. Oh! Except this…” You then played the opening notes of “MEGALOVANIA” from Undertale. I laughed.

 

“You’ve got your priorities straight,” I said.

 

“Well thank you,” you said. “Eventually, you’ll hear something I wrote myself. Maybe. I dunno if I’ll ever get brave enough, but. Yeah. Like I said, maybe.”

 

You took the laptop back out to the dining room.

 

You’d effectively distracted me from the fact that I had no idea what to say, but now I had nothing to add really. So we shared an awkward silence after that. You took a sizable sip of champagne, looking as though you were deliberately avoiding looking at your webcam as you did.

 

“I love you,” I blurted out. I couldn’t think of anything else to break the silence.

 

You choked on your champagne a bit.

 

“Oh god, sorry! What the hell is wrong with me...” I felt my face redden as you wiped your desk off.

 

“Christ, Dan, do you know how much it hurts to choke on champagne?” You were clearly slightly upset with me but you were mostly in good spirits. Your smile appeared genuine.

 

“Sorry, sor-- God, I have no idea why I said that.”

 

You sighed and leaned back. “Don’t lie, Dan. You know why you said that.”

 

“Because I’m drinking champagne and because I love you and because the silence was getting weird.”

 

You just pointed in reply and drank the last bit of champagne in your glass. You frowned at the empty flute and reached for the bottle to get a refill.

 

“This will make the conversation I know we’re about to have much easier to cope with,” you said, holding up your drink.

 

“We don’t have to have a conversation about it,” I said. “I really just… wanted to make sure that was clear, I guess.”

 

“I don’t think you wanted anything. I think you just have more impulse control problems than you realize.”

 

“Maybe. Phil did mention the possibility of ADHD to me.”

 

“Did he now?”

 

“Yeah. I mean it would explain some of the depression, feeling like I’m incapable, zoning out when people talk to me.”

 

“I had depression for a really long time,” you said, a far-off look in your eyes. “It got better when I met Henry and he helped. He made me feel like I deserved better than I was letting myself have.” Your eyes narrowed.

 

“What is it?” I asked.

 

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

 

The silence came back for awhile, and then you said, “I already knew. That you love me, I mean.”

 

We just sort of looked at each other on the screen for a moment.

 

You continued. “There are a lot of different kinds of love though. There’s the love for oneself, love between two best friends, love for your fellow human beings in general, the sort of passionate crazy love you feel when you have a crush on someone or when you & someone else are crushing on each other… until it kinda morphs into that long-term family type love, which is very different. And there’s that selfish sort of love where you want to have someone but you don’t know - or sometimes even want to know - if they feel the same way. And then…”

 

“Then what?”

 

“There’s sad love. When you love someone, but not as much as you love yourself, and you’re starting to think maybe those two feelings are at odds with one another. So you just feel sad.”

 

“Are we talking about Henry now?” I said cautiously.

 

You nodded.

 

“Elise, what’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t know if I can handle his health issues. You know it’s only like 8:00 here, right? The guy has to go to bed so early these days because he’s not getting enough sleep, and what he gets isn’t very good. Getting a CPAP machine has proven to be bureaucratic nightmare, so he sleeps like shit. He goes through the day like a zombie half the time, his memory is worse than mine before I started taking Vyvanse, and he’s cranky as shit. I honestly don’t know if I can deal with it.”

 

“You do love him, right?”

 

“So much, Dan. I really do.”

 

“That’s all you really need then.”

 

You laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, I wish. If love were enough then I’d suffer through his crankiness gladly. If love were enough then it wouldn’t make me feel like I’m being abandoned when he’s asleep by 9. Love is not enough. Staying with someone takes work, and you have to be willing and able to do that work.”

 

“Love is absolutely enough,” I said, knowing that I sounded like an idealistic child, but also knowing I was right. “What do you think makes it possible to do the work? Take my job, for instance. I don’t have a boss over my shoulder checking on me constantly to make sure I reach deadlines. I don’t have secret shoppers testing whether or not a sell axes to children.”

 

You laughed, apparently recognizing that story.

 

“What I have,  _ all _ I have, is love for what I do. And that love has been my motivation. Love for my job and my audience and the people I work with means I’m more likely to put extra work and energy and time into getting videos done, to ask people for help when I need it, and to push through the most stressful things because I know everything will be alright on the other side of it. Yes, you need love  _ and _ effort to make things work out okay, but that effort is easier, and sometimes only possible, if there’s love pushing it forward.”

 

Your face went white and you once again avoided eye contact.

 

“Henry has always been there for you, Elise. He deserves the effort. He deserves as much of your love as you can possibly give him.”

 

“It’s a shame he only has half of it.” You looked up at the screen. At me.

 

“Elise, if he has half your love…”

 

You nodded at me. My heart broke for you. I knew in that moment that you were being pulled in two different directions, and the immediacy of that was making it impossible to see far enough in the future to make a decision that was rational. You didn’t have the energy to think of what was best for yourself in the long run. I knew, because I’d felt the same way in the past. Multiple times. Being at a crossroads makes it impossible to see either direction with enough detail to choose a path and have any idea whether you chose the correct one.

 

“What’s left for yourself then?” I asked.

 

You shrugged and gulped down more champagne.

 

“You should probably stop,” I said quietly. “Please stop.”

 

“I’m fine,” you sighed.

 

“No, Elise, I’m serious. Now is not the time for drinking any more. We both know ADHD makes alcoholism more likely, we’ve done the same research. Don’t let that happen. Put the damn glass down.”

 

You reluctantly slammed the glass down - not hard enough to break it, but hard enough that I was concerned you might. Your eyes were turning red and your breathing audible.

 

“Elise, listen to me. I love you. But I do not need you. Henry needs you.”

 

You looked at me, tears welling up, and started shaking your head.

 

“I can’t do it, Dan. I can’t.”

 

“Leaving Henry won’t make you feel better. I know you. You’re kind and wonderful and amazing, and if you left him you’d just feel guilty. So be there for him.”

 

You sniffed, blinked tears out of your eyes, and breathed.

 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “You’re right, I know.”

 

“Everything will be okay,” I said. “He’ll get that CPAP, his sleep will get back to normal, he’ll be himself again, and it’ll all be alright. You’ll see. It’ll take some work for awhile, but you’ll get through it.”

 

“Thanks, Dan.”

 

“Anytime, my little doomslayer.”

 

You laughed. “That’s the least adorable nickname ever. I love it.”

 

“I got you laughing! That’s all that matters. Now go to sleep. You clearly need to sleep off all that champagne and your husband needs you. Make sure you drink some water first, hangovers aren’t fun.”

 

“Look at you, taking care of me.”

 

“Always.”

 

We smiled at one another, some bittersweetness hanging in the air between us. After all, the cards were now all on the table. We knew we loved each other - in some capacity at least - and we knew that you loved your husband but were unhappy. It was quite a lot to deal with in one night.

 

We said goodnight to each other.

 

My stomach tightened again.


	11. The Illusion of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan notices he hasn't heard from Elise in awhile, and isn't prepared for the reason why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW this chapter: Description of injuries suffered because of a car accident. It's not horribly graphic but it does get specific.

“Dan, what is taking you so long!?”

 

“None of these tins is heavy enough!”

 

“Nobody can feel the weight of anything through the camera! Just get anything!”

 

Phil was doing a video on New Year’s resolutions, and since getting fit is such a common one I wanted to demonstrate some of the exercise methods I used in 2017. That way my fellow gym-averse hermits, introverts, and mild agoraphobes could benefit from my experience and improve their physical and mental health without massive upheaval in their lives. Before buying actual hand weights, I’d used tins and jars of food because they were heavy enough to actually do something -- that’s how unfit I was. Once Phil started commenting on the heavily dented tins of peaches, however, I upgraded. But they were a sensible solution when I was just getting started. At this point, my arm strength was such that 410 grams wasn’t exactly a challenge anymore. I’d forgotten how weak I really was before.

 

I grabbed a few tins begrudgingly and headed to Phil’s room where we filmed random health & fitness tips that were actually easy to implement, since me and Phil were both frustrated by the lifestyle channels that would present some huge change to your routine as a “simple tip” or “life hack.” Since me & Phil are the laziest YouTubers ever, I felt like we were especially well qualified for this job. Tinned fruit is actually a good example. If you’re the kind of person who should eat more fruit, but you never do because fresh fruit takes some work to enjoy and it always goes bad before you get a chance to eat it, buy yourself some tins. Crack that sucker open, grab a plastic fork -- bam, healthy snack, and no dishes to do after. Make sure you get the ones packed in water or juice instead of syrup, though.

 

I’m digressing, sorry.

 

January was really not as cold as it should have been, but it was still January. It was nice being able to drink hot chocolate and wear cozy jumpers. As someone who’ll figure out how to work sweater paws into his wardrobe even in July, it’s probably no surprise that I feel most comfortable in baggy, soft clothes. So winter temperatures were very welcome.

 

Also welcome? The 6 month mark. As of Christmas, I’d officially known you for 6 months, and… there’s definitely something to all the psychological studies saying that the honeymoon period ends around then. You were back to not being at the forefront of my mind all the time, similar to when I’d reduced contact with you. It was oddly liberating. I wasn’t constantly wondering what you were up to, how you were feeling, if you’d like an anime I was suddenly reminded of, if you’d like a song I heard. I hadn’t even noticed how often I tied my thoughts to you until one night in February, I was laying in bed and thought of you for the first time all day.

 

Valentine’s Day.

 

I hadn’t thought about you all day… on Valentine’s Day.

 

Tumblr graphics full of hearts and candy and naked Phil cupids, and I didn’t think of you at all.

 

But that’s when I realized I also hadn’t heard from you in a week. Your Facebook timeline was a few reposted memes, the last one having been 3 days before.

 

I was a rope dancer in that moment. I’d been so high up, feeling like I was flying, but my concern for you reminded me that I was precariously balanced on a tightrope. My liberated feelings collapsed utterly.

 

I scrolled through your timeline on Facebook to see if there were any hints as to where you were all week, but there wasn’t much - a link to a song here, an inspirobot meme there, but nothing substantial. So I sent you a message.

 

**Daniel Howell  
** hey - I haven’t heard from you in a bit. was wondering how you’re doing.

 

It was a good half hour before you responded.

 

**Elise Ludwig  
** Henry had a car accident two days ago. Fell asleep at the wheel.  
He’s alive but bad head injury and the bottom half of his body is fucked. Medically induced coma now.  
I’ll msg you later

 

***

 

The English language is ill-equipped to deal with the feelings I felt at that moment. We use terms like “overwhelmed” and “flood of emotion” but they refer to being overcome by an abundance of one particular emotion like elation or fear or sadness or love. Not all of them at once. My conscious mind was a room with one doorway, and that doorway was crowded by so many emotions trying to push their way in that the room itself remained empty. Fear and hope, confusion and understanding, jealousy and acceptance, regret and relief, panic and resignation, guilt and innocence, worry and calm, hate and love… every feeling I had was competing for dominance and control over my mind. And since none of them were winning, the television in that room was turned to static. The silence in my head was deafening.

 

And then, one feeling pushed through.

 

_ Henry could die… but… I told you that everything was going to be okay. _

 

Once regret made itself at home, a few other emotions thought the room looked more welcoming and they trickled in one at a time.

 

Worry.  _ Is Henry going to survive? What if he doesn’t? Is Elise all alone right now? _

Fear.  _ What is Elise going to do without Henry if he doesn’t survive? Will I be able to help her from so far away? Will her sister? What about the rest of her family? _

Confusion.  _ Where are the rest of her family? Does she get along with them? Henry’s crash must have been because of how badly he’s sleeping… why does it have to be so hard for him to get a CPAP? What would it have taken to prevent his sleep apnoea being so bad that he needed one in the first place? Could anything have prevented it?  _

Anger.  _ Who’s taking responsibility for this accident? Elise? Is that fair? If Elise has to pay for all this herself, I swear to god… If Elise has to pay for this, it’s all Henry’s fault. _

Jealousy.  _ If she’d been with me instead of Henry, this wouldn’t be her problem. She’d never have to worry about this. I’d have gone to the doctor about my allergies. I’d have taken care of myself better. And if I had been in an accident, then… she’d be crying over me right now instead of him. He’s so lucky he has her. She loves him so much. Fuck. _

 

Regret, worry, fear, confusion, anger, and jealousy had taken over my mind completely, each one violently wresting dominance from the others for brief moments. The pinball game going on in my mind would have been entirely invisible to anyone looking at me as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, finding faces in the shadows of the texture there. Angry, judgmental faces that looped me back around to once again feeling regretful.

 

That’s the feeling that stuck. It stuck all night.

 

I’d said everything would be okay. But it wasn’t up to me.

 

_ I am so sorry, Elise. _

 

_ Please Henry, you’ve got to live. Please don’t leave Elise alone. _

 

***

 

I lay in bed, duvet curled around me like a cocoon, the high sun beating down on my back as though trying to burn it off me.

 

A knock on my bedroom door.

 

“Dan?”

 

“Hm.”

 

Phil peeked inside.

 

“Oh my god, Dan, are you okay?”

 

I tentatively shook my head.

 

“You’re paler than usual, and you’re sweating like a madman. Are you sick?”

 

“Henry’s in hospital. Car crash. Doesn’t look good.”

 

Phil looked away from me for a moment, as though taking the time to understand and absorb the full weight of that information.

 

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

 

“The woman I love might lose the man she loves, and there’s nothing I can do to help her. There’s nothing else to say.”

 

Phil nodded.

 

“Do you want to stay in bed, or do you need me to keep you company?”

 

I shrugged.

 

“I’m going to go to the shops, do you need anything?”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Did you take your medication yet?”

 

“Phil, stop being a nagging wife and go to the shops already. I’m fine.” I turned my head away.

 

“Okay, okay. Text me if you need anything, yeah?”

 

I sighed. “Yeah.”

 

I heard Phil leave and turned my head back to where he had been.

 

Then I got my Elvanse out of my bedside drawer and took one, silently thanking Phil for the reminder.

 

***

 

Phil had returned, and we were unpacking groceries when you sent me another message. When I heard the tone, I looked at Phil. He looked at me knowingly, and nodded to signal his permission for me to prioritize checking on you.

 

I gulped as I unlocked my phone, afraid of what I might read.

 

**Elise Ludwig  
** Sorry for disappearing. I had to sign some paperwork.

 

This polite message had so much potential darkness to it. Learning the extent of Henry’s injuries was like waiting for the guillotine blade to just fall already.

 

**Daniel Howell  
** don’t worry about me.    
are you doing alright?    
how’s henry?

 

**Elise Ludwig  
** I’m tired but I’m holding up.  
Henry’s been in and out of surgery since they brought him here.   
Nasty whiplash. There’s a lot of swelling in his brain & spinal cord.   
the drug-induced coma is the only thing keeping him alive right now.   
It also kept his stomach area from bleeding out.   
I saw the front of his car. completely mangled. His legs & lower torso got caught in that.   
The doctors wouldn’t let me look at him when he was admitted. It’s apparently that bad.   
He’ll be in the hospital for months.  
I’m scared out of my mind.

 

“Dan?”

 

Phil noticed I hadn’t said anything yet.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Any news?”

 

“Henry’s having surgery. Whiplash and serious damage to the lower half of his body. He’s in a medically induced coma now, so he’s stable I guess… but he’ll be in hospital for a long time.”

 

“He’ll live though?”

 

“Elise seems optimistic… or at least she’s trying to be. I don’t know what the doctors told her.”

 

I wanted to ask, but it felt so wrong to. I was desperate to know if Henry would be okay, but then again, so were you.

 

**Elise Ludwig  
** Dan?

 

**Daniel Howell  
** sorry, i’m just not sure what to say rn.  
:(

 

**Elise Ludwig  
** yeah… it’s okay.    
Not much to say really.

 

**Daniel Howell  
** ...do you have anyone there with you? like is your sister in town or do you have other friends or family closer to you?

 

**Elise Ludwig  
** No… Andie’s work schedule is too hectic for her to take the time off to come out here.    
My dad is in Colorado, my mom is in New York. And… I just don’t really have any local friends tbh.    
The ones I made in school have all moved to other cities, I mostly keep in touch with them via facebook anymore.  
...Dan?   
you there?

 

**Daniel Howell  
** yeah, sorry… phil and I were just having a chat  
do you want us to come out and visit? neither of us think you should be alone right now.   
we don’t want to intrude, but we promise we’re low maintenance

 

**Elise Ludwig  
** Normally I’d go a round or two declining your offer but… please? :(   
I’ll help pay for your flight   
It seems so silly to make you spend that money when I just need, like…   
Someone to hug.   
Well… and someone who can help me with getting shit done around the house.

 

**Daniel Howell  
** don’t be ridiculous.  
hugs & keeping the house clean are NOT “silly”  
that shit’s important when you’re trying to deal with a stressful time  
and we can afford the flight, don’t worry about that.  
we wouldn’t offer if we didn’t mean it.  
if you need us, we’re going to be there for you, ok?

 

**Elise Ludwig  
** I love you guys.  
Thank you.  
Someday I’ll think of a way to repay you for this.

 

 

 

 


	12. Biochemical Mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and Phil are staying with Elise while Henry is in the hospital. Physical proximity means Dan & Elise have to face their feelings for each other directly... but is now the best time for that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the screaming you're inevitably going to be doing by the end of this chapter. 
> 
> Some parts of this chapter are quite wordy but do read the whole thing - if I could condense those passages any further and still get the essence of what I was really trying to say, I would have, I promise!

Terminal D of the Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport is apparently most often used for foreign flights, and as such it’s very clearly an attempt to be impressive. The ceiling is twice as high as it needs to be. I counted at least 3 Starbucks locations just in this terminal alone. We saw a vending machine for electronics, a store selling very expensive pens, a massage parlor, designer handbags, donuts and burritos, and a yoga studio. All in the terminal. Because America.

 

You picked us up outside baggage claim in an SUV that desperately needed a wash. The inside was full of “just in case” stuff, despite most of it being less than useful under normal circumstances. You had an enormous road atlas in the back pocket of one of the seats, for instance. You also had a first aid kit, an ice scraper, wipes for cleaning the windows and the dashboard (which was covered in dust, so apparently you didn’t use them much), and a zip-up binder with a small clipboard, envelopes, stamps, pens, and a few sheets of paper inside. (“You never know what’s gonna come up. Or what you’re suddenly gonna remember while you’re out doing other stuff,” you explained.) A plastic grocery sack served as a rubbish bin in the front, and currently had the remnants of a McDonald’s breakfast in it. Looks like no matter how much you tried to prepare for things in advance, you still sometimes had to rush around or improvise.

 

You had music playing in the car the whole time as though silence was an enemy to be defeated. When conversation lulled, you were tapping on the steering wheel, singing along, humming when you didn’t know the words.

  
***   
  


Your house wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, exactly - you weren’t too far from a major motorway, and your side of said motorway had lots of shops and neighbourhoods. The other side, however, was basically farms and trees and little else.

 

Your house had a warm decor theme - reds, oranges, and browns ranging from beige to near-black. The sunlight filtered through red curtains made me feel like we were sitting by a campfire as we walked into your living room. That opened up to the dining room, with the kitchen awkwardly hiding around a corner. Your walls were all dotted with posters (all framed), the occasional autograph, shelves with Funko Pop figures and statues and Amiibos and collector’s editions of games, and a markerboard with bill due dates written on it. Your Warcraft collection was extensive, as was your Doctor Who figure collection. You had two full shelves of books and movies plus a small shelf of games (“Those are just the ones we play regularly or want to show we have. There are more upstairs.”), and a short Ikea shelf with fabric drawers full of various types of cables and game controllers.

 

You showed me and Phil the sleeper sofa, which was naturally not quite long enough for us, but it would have to do. You showed us your TV - which had apps on it, so we could watch Netflix and Crunchyroll and YouTube if we wanted - and the handy chart you’d made so we knew what input settings to use for every game system you had (“I made this for myself, believe it or not, but it’s pretty damn handy for guests.”). Phil unpacked our stuff downstairs while I asked if I could see the upstairs. You invited Phil along, but he insisted on making your downstairs toilet as close to “ours” as possible, since we didn’t know how long we’d be visiting.

 

All three of your house’s bedrooms were upstairs; only one was actually used as a bedroom, of course, and the other two were your respective offices.

 

Your office had a wall of mounted shelves, filled to the edge with CDs from all over the world. You owned nearly every release by Faye Wong, Ayumi Hamasaki, Tori Amos, Anggun, Bjork, and Lee Jung Hyun - all solo female singers, but otherwise they had next to nothing in common. You had plenty more music besides them, and the range of genres included was impressive - hip-hop, classic rock, alterna-folk (is that a term?), progressive metal, trance, classical. Much of what you enjoyed mixed genres together or twisted conventions around, but much of it was conventional too. It was no longer a surprise to me that you’d had musical ideas in your head that you needed to get out. I’d had no idea music was quite such a big deal for you.

 

You and your husband each had a turntable. Yours was connected to your computer, his was connected to a stereo receiver. Under your turntable was a horizontal shelf full of records - alphabetized, and full of music from both hemispheres.

 

I realized I hadn’t said anything for some time when you chuckled at me admiring your collection.

 

“Oh, sorry,” I said. I’m just thinking about how much you have here. And how surprising it is that it’s all so… different. You normally strike me as being so…”

 

“What? Not closed-minded, I hope.”

 

“No, not at all, just… timid? Anxious? You seem like you’d stick with what’s comfortable for you, like you’d stick with a favorite genre and not branch out too much.”

 

“I’m not gonna lie, it is hard for me to start listening to someone new. Friends will recommend me songs or artists, send me the link on Facebook or something, and... most of the time, I never listen to it. If I do, I’ll hesitate before clicking the link. I’m not sure why. Honestly, the way I act, you’d think the play button was going to launch missiles or something.” You smiled and sat next to me on the floor. “For me to listen to new music at all, it usually has to be by accident. Someone has to play it for me or I have to hear it in the background of a movie or something. It’s hard for me to find new music nowadays because the music world runs on recommendations. Music is accessed on-demand for the most part, so you have to already know what you want to listen to. I used to find new music by watching MTV, but that’s not really a thing anymore, and the radio plays the same 5 songs over and over. So on the rare occasion when I hear something new and it captivates me, that is truly awesome.”

 

“So, next question… why vinyl?”

 

You smiled, leaning back on your hands. “I bet you’re expecting me to say something about the sound quality being better.” With a laugh, you shook your head. “People who think vinyl sounds objectively better are kidding themselves. They’re subjectively enjoying the sound, and that’s completely valid. But the fact is, they’re enjoying reduced sound quality, or at least greatly reduced dynamic range compared to digital music. Of course, all those self-proclaimed ‘audiophiles’  on the internet don’t want to admit that, because they can’t handle possibly being wrong. Which is upsetting because they’re  _ not _ wrong, not really. I mean, sure,  _ badly _ compressed and  _ badly _ mastered digital music gets clipped & distorted, which is what most vinyl listeners cite as the main problem, but not all digital music has that issue. Yes, when it is a problem, analog media like vinyl removes at least one compression step and prevents that a bit. But music nowadays is often engineered to sound sparse, cold, tinny, harsh… Imperfections are ironed out or prevented so entirely in order to prevent that clipping & distortion that the music sounds impersonal. Fake. Vinyl can warm it back up. But it does that by accident. It’s that hiss behind everything that makes the music sound real again. That ‘flaw’ in the sound quality is what makes the music friendly. It makes it more complete, more whole, more… well, more perfect, ironically enough. It’s like a rainstorm is always going on in the background of your music.” You sighed and reached for a record with a blue sleeve. “But that’s not the only reason I listen to vinyl. See… when I was a little kid, listening to a CD or a cassette tape was something I  _ did _ . I sat on the floor, pressed play, looked at the booklet - especially if the lyrics were included - and I listened. Music wasn’t background noise while I did other things like it is now. I experienced music on its own, for its own sake. Vinyl forces me into doing that again. Most of the time I’m listening to some streaming service, doing other stuff, looking at other stuff, working maybe. I’m not giving the music the respect it deserves and I know that. But with vinyl? You have to see the cover art”  -- you held up the record, whose sleeve had shapes cut out of it (the word “VOIDS,” I realized) to reveal a pattern underneath -- “pull the disc out of the sleeve” -- you pulled a disc out to demonstrate -- “clean the dust off of the record, put the needle on, adjust the graphic equalizer, and  _ listen _ . You have to flip the disc over in a few songs anyway, so you may as well just sit there, look at the art, look at the insert if there is one, learn all the words, listen to the instruments and how they’re played...” You put the record back in its sleeve and replaced it on the shelf. “It’s the physical experience of playing the record that I like. I like being forced to really pay attention. Otherwise life gets away from me and I don’t remember to.”

 

By the end of your speech you were frowning.

 

“You were a really catchy song,” you said after a moment.

 

“What?”

 

“You were a song that I wanted to listen to. So I nervously hovered over the play button, and then sucked it up and just… listened to you. And you turned out to be really catchy, and complex enough that you took multiple listens to fully appreciate, which pretty much cemented your place as an all-time favorite.”

 

It dawned on me then, just as it apparently had you just a moment ago, that your relationship with music was an excellent metaphor for your relationships with people.

 

“I certainly never felt like you weren’t appreciating me,” I said. “Am I on vinyl then?” I smiled.

 

You chuckled a bit in response.

 

“Oh yes. It’s your imperfections that make you perfect.” You smiled and raised your eyebrows slightly “You know, it’s funny you say that actually, about being a person who’s on vinyl. There’s a service that will press your ashes into a 10 inch record when you die. Henry has that in his will, actually.”

 

You didn’t drop into a sad tone when talking about this. You said it as though Henry weren’t fighting for his life in a hospital. As though this weren’t a very real possibility.

 

“What songs does he want on it?” I asked.

 

“He said in his will that everyone in his immediate family should choose a song that reminds them of him. He knows the record is for us, not for him, so he wanted it to mean something to us. He did choose one song though. His song for me. ‘Dear Future Historians…’ by Enter Shikari.”

 

“What’s it about?”

 

“About living an unremarkable life, made remarkable by the presence of someone you love.”

 

You stood up and closed your office door. “I don’t wanna bother Phil, it sounds like he has the TV on down there.” You pulled out an album, turned up your computer speakers, opened up some software, and put a record on your turntable. The needle dropped with a crackle, and slow piano began to play.

 

You sat back down and then we just listened.

 

_ I never walked on the moon _ _   
_ _ I never saw the pyramids _

_ I was never struck by famine or fortune _

 

_ I’ll never experience the world you inhabit _

_ I’ll never experience the world you inhabit _

 

_ I never swam with dolphins _

_ I never sang from a mountaintop _

_ I was no inventor and no archaeologist _

 

_ I fret not, I fret not _

_ For I made my own discovery _

 

My trance was broken by the feeling of your fingers lightly touching mine. I looked at your hand, following your arm with my eyes until I reached your shoulders and then your face in profile. Tears had begun rolling down your cheek as the emotional centre of your brain remembered what was going on in your life. I grabbed onto your hand in earnest.

 

_ For when I dive into your iris _

_ My brain erupts _

_ Into biochemical mayhem _

_ And I feel _

_ Like a man with two hearts, with two hearts _

 

_ I fret not, I fret not _

_ For I made my own discovery _

_ I fret not, I fret not _

_ For I made my own discovery _

_ I fret not, I fret not, I fret not… _

 

I turned to you and hugged you tightly.

 

_ Just put your weight on my shoulders… _

 

The music swelled, and when it was at its loudest you let yourself sob into the fabric of my shirt.

 

_ Put your weight on my shoulders _

_ Put your weight on my shoulders _

 

I held you, listening to you cry, wishing I was capable of doing anything more. I felt so helpless. I shed a tear and stroked your hair.

 

_ Put your weight on my shoulders _

_ Put your weight on my shoulders... _

 

By the time the song was over you’d stopped actively sobbing. You reached up and hit the power button on your turntable, breathing deeply to calm yourself.

 

We sat in silence for a very long time. You eventually decided to lie down on the floor, using your arm as a pillow. You gestured for me to join you, so I did.

 

“Sitting up was taking a lot of energy all of a sudden,” you explained.

 

I nodded.

 

“I feel like the worst person imaginable,” you said.

 

“Why?” I said, my brow furrowed.

 

“I’ve, um… I’ve been considering divorce off and on for the last year or so.”

 

“Because of his health?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And how do you feel now?”

 

“I’m not interested in divorce. I mean, I don’t want to lose him. I’m not sure exactly  _ why _ I feel that way though.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You know how... when you want something, you want it more if it’s harder to get? That something beautiful to you is all the more beautiful for its unattainability.” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“But when something fantastic that you love is around all the time, you take it for granted and you don’t appreciate it as much anymore. Then you lose it, and nothing else can take its place, and you realize too late what you had.”

 

“Mmm.” I nodded in understanding.

 

“I don’t know which of those things is happening. I don’t know if I really love him and I just didn’t appreciate him enough before, or if I don’t love him and I’m just wanting him more because now I might lose him forever.”

 

“I wish I could help you figure out how you feel,” I said. “I wish there were easy answers to questions like this. The human heart is a complicated thing. But… Henry is truly, legitimately good for you. Over time, sure, the fiery passionate romantic love has faded between you, but he actively cares for you. Love is a verb, right? He shows his love for you all the time. He helps you become yourself. He brings out the best in you. And I believe wholeheartedly that he will always have your back. I can’t say for sure whether you love him or not, but from a purely logical standpoint, I  _ can _ say that it would probably be a mistake for you to let him go.”

 

“I don’t want to stay with him just because I feel guilty, though. I don’t want either of us to be more in love with the other. That’ll just breed resentment later.”

 

I raised one corner of my mouth. “No, I suppose that wouldn’t be fair to either of you, would it?” I pushed a bit of hair that had fallen down over your face out of the way. “You both deserve better than a marriage where the affection isn’t balanced.”

 

“I wish I knew what to do.”

 

“For now, you don’t need to do anything. When he wakes up, you’ll feel one of two ways. One, relieved and overcome with love for him, in which case you’ll know that the possibility of losing him isn’t making you think you love him more than you do. Or two, you’ll feel uneasy about spending another day with him and you’ll know you haven’t just been taking him for granted.”

 

“If he wakes up.”

 

“No. When.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Doesn’t matter. You have to proceed assuming he’s going to wake up. Because for now, he’s alive. He’s alive, he’s your husband, and he does love you. And the respectful thing to do is to act the same way you would if he wasn’t in hospital.”

  
  


***

 

Phil lay next to me in your sofa bed, snoring lightly, meanwhile I was lying there daydreaming about how nice it would be to temporarily be your boyfriend while Henry was recovering. Logically, of course, I knew it’d truly be miserable to be “yours” with an expiry date, but my imagination went crazy with images of me  _ enjoying _ the sorts of dull, disgusting domestic chores that people only imagine as blissful when they have a crush.

 

Like, with you, I could imagine having fun doing the dishes. That’s absurd.

 

As I admonished myself for losing touch with reality so entirely, I heard you walking around upstairs. At first I figured you’d gone to use the toilet or something, but I just kept hearing you walk around for what seemed like ages. I looked at the cable box; 1:23 AM. I looked over at Phil; still snoring.

 

I swung my feet over to the side of the bed and let them hit the cold floor. That woke me up. I stood up slowly so as not to wake Phil and let my feet carry me upstairs.

 

Your bedroom door was closed, but I could see that the light was on. I knocked lightly.

 

“Elise?”

 

You opened the door.

 

“Hey, Dan. What are you doing up?”

 

“Can’t sleep. You?”

 

“Same.”

 

“Thinking about Henry?”

 

You looked away and shook your head.

 

“I um… I was thinking... about you.”

 

“About me?”

 

You opened the door more and stepped closer to me. You leaned in to kiss me. I turned away.

 

“Elise.” I let my expression relax into something resembling disappointment or pity. “Don’t.”

 

Your face went completely red. I couldn’t tell if it was because you’d been caught misbehaving or if my rejection embarrassed you. “Fuck. You’re right, I’m still married, I shouldn’t. It’s just--”

 

“You don’t need to explain...”

 

“No, I want to.”

 

We heard Phil let out a single loud snore downstairs.

 

“You should probably come in if we’re gonna talk,” you said, letting me in. I nodded and stepped inside. You closed the door behind me. 

 

You were in a t-shirt and underwear and nothing else, clearly having tried to go to bed and failed. Your light was on, your TV playing a randomized playlist of Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes. You muted the TV and sat cross-legged on your unmade bed.

 

“Look… I know I shouldn’t do anything like that. I shouldn’t act on… on my feelings for you. But it’s like... my heart already has one foot out the door, you know? I’m just so used to my heart being broken. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without being betrayed or left or abused somehow. And now… now that Henry’s in the hospital I’m convinced I’m going to be hurt again. I’m just waiting for the pain.”

 

“You’re not waiting,” I spat. “You’re inflicting it on yourself preemptively.”

 

You glared at me. “There are times I wish I’d never met you, you know that?”

 

I nodded.  _ Fair enough. _

 

“You make it impossible for me to figure out how I really feel about the man I married.” Your face was quite serious, but not angry. As though you were making unbiased scientific observations. Clearly, if we were going to talk about this, we were going to talk about it properly. “Your presence is throwing a complicated variable into the equation.”

 

“You're fucking around with my comprehension of things too, you know.” I paused to collect myself, feeling anger boiling in my chest but refusing to let it blow up all at once. I gestured toward the empty space next to you on the bed, and you nodded. I sat down. “I don’t like feeling out of control of things. The things I fear are like, supernatural things and the dark - things where I don’t know what’s going on, so I don’t know what to do. I’m not highly strung enough to call myself a control freak, but when it’s reasonable to expect control, I feel very uncomfortable without it. I have to control my brand. I have to control my interactions with other people, so I opt not to interact with other people at all if I can help it. And yeah, there are some things I know for a fact I can’t control, like the weather, and I can accept that stuff because at least I know it’s out of my control. But when my own actions and my own feelings aren’t up to me, it makes me feel weak. It makes me nervous. It scares me, if I’m honest. And you… You’ve made me feel out of control from the moment we met. I can’t stop what my emotions do when it comes to you. I have moments of control, moments of lucidity, but… I’m constantly actively fighting against how I feel about you because you’re married. To a good man who loves you and is good for you. And it takes so much energy and work to fight it… I can’t help but be insanely angry that you’re not doing the same work.”

 

“I… I’m sorry,” you said quietly, like a child caught accidentally hurting their friend.

 

“I had to do the work to fight my feelings once before, but it didn’t make me mad. You know why? Because Phil was fighting his too. It was… it was fair then. This… me and you… it’s not fair that you’re allowed to feel this way and I’m not. Or I feel like I’m not. Whatever. I don’t know.”

 

You were tentative about continuing the conversation, seeing my posture sink. “So you and Phil were… kinda like this too?”

 

“Sort of. Phil and I had feelings for each other when we first met. It lasted a long time. Phil showed me what kind of person I wanted to be in a relationship with and I realized, because of him, that I was unhappy with my girlfriend at the time. She didn’t treat me like an equal companion… I mean she was perfectly nice to me, never cruel or bad to me really. Just sort of… distant. So I broke up with her, not specifically  _ for _ Phil, but certainly because Phil taught me that I didn’t need to settle, you know? If someone like Phil thought I was wonderful, then I had no reason to stay with someone I was lukewarm about.”

 

“So what were the circumstances then? If Phil liked you back, what happened?”

 

“He felt like… because of where I was in life, you know, just starting university, living more or less on my own for the first time... like he was kind of babysitting me. Well, that’s not the best way of putting it. More like… he was worried that there’d be an unfair power dynamic. That I might feel like I have to obey him or live up to his expectations or something because he was more grown up than I was. And considering my self-esteem at the time, it was perfectly reasonable for him to be worried about that. So I kept everything bottled up, avoided acting on my feelings for him until the day came when I’d be grown up enough for him. But... by the time I was old enough and successful enough on my own that the dynamic had more or less evened out, the feelings had faded. On both our parts. There was definitely permanent respect and companionship and trust and some sort of love, sure, but… Romantically, I’d outgrown him, I guess, and for him it just became more like family love than anything romantic. We’re still close, obviously, but it’s not like it was. Hasn’t been for years. I still think he’s beautiful, sure. But he’s like... a brother, kind of. But like a brother I’d have sex with if it came up.” That got a chuckle out of you. “But oh I loved him, Elise. I really did love him.”

 

“You know the funny thing is… I never loved Henry like that.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. It was always very even, very gentle, very safe and comforting. Maybe it’s that he’s not my type physically, maybe it’s that my first positive emotion associated with him was safety rather than intrigue. Not sure. But there were never sparks, there was just… contentment.”

 

“Because he helped you in ways you really needed?”

 

“Oh god... maybe.” You looked suddenly pale as though just realizing something.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I needed him. I thought it was better to go with a sensible marriage partner. Someone who complemented me and who helped me work on my flaws, you know? Someone who’d help me get by in life. Instead of finding a guy I found attractive and interesting, I went with a guy who had everything I needed. I used to need him to take care of me, because I was useless without the structure he gave me. And… that’s not the case anymore. And now he needs me instead.”

 

I breathed in. He had always been what she needed, but... never what she wanted. She knew she couldn’t survive without him, and he always loved her, but….

 

“You never loved him romantically, did you?”

 

“I don’t…. I don’t think I did, no. And I don’t think I even realized it until now. I love him, but… I’m not in love with him. I’m not in love with my husband. I don’t think I can stay with him.” You still weren’t looking up at me. You swallowed audibly, your breathing became slightly shallow, and you were clearly fear-stricken by this realization. Because now that you knew this, you had to face it.

 

“He’s still a person, Elise. And regardless of whether you were ever in love with him or not, as far as he knows, you’re his support. That’s what you signed up for when you said ‘I do.’”

 

“I know.” 

 

“This is that whole ‘in sickness and in health’ thing. This is when he needs you the most.”

 

“Yes, I know.”

 

“I wish I could be polite about how you’re acting right now, but you’re being a coward.”

 

“...I know.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling the way you feel, but there is something wrong with going back on a promise right when someone really needs you to keep it.” I knew I sounded combative, but I was frustrated. I was frustrated that you were letting yourself admit to feeling this way as though it changed anything in the real world. And I was frustrated that I couldn’t stop myself from loving you back.

 

“God dammit, I know!”

 

“I don’t think I could ever be with you, Elise. If you weren’t happy, would you tell me? Or would you wait for me to be in a coma and cheat on me?” 

 

“Dan, stop.”

 

“Stop what, being honest? Calling you on your bullshit? I would have no way of knowing you wouldn’t abandon me eventually.”

 

You finally looked back up at me. “I know what I can deal with, I know what I’m capable of handling and what I’m not strong enough for. And I can’t handle being with someone when their very existence is a roll of the dice.”

 

I shook my head and spoke quietly. “Everyone dies eventually. No matter who you spend your life with, one of you will be alone one day. I’m no more of a guarantee than Henry is. We don’t have that much control over when our lives end but we do have control over whether or not we keep our promises to people.”

 

You looked away again, shaking your head as though I were just rattling off platitudes. 

 

“Elise, you have no idea what health problems I might have later. You don’t even realize the health problems I have now!” My voice was back to its usual animated self again. “Do you know I have dizziness & fainting spells just from standing up sometimes? Just standing up. That’s it. Henry had to at least be engaged in something risky like driving to have his accident. Someday I could just be walking around the flat and fall face-first onto a glass table or a PC tower just because I was overly optimistic about my ability to leave the couch.” I paused to calm down, scooted closer to you, and lifted your chin so I could look you in the eye. “We  _ all _ have baggage, whether it’s emotional or physical. If having a partner in life is really that important to you, you need to accept the fact that whoever you love, they will need your help to carry their burdens, whatever they might be.” I put my hand on your cheek, stroking lightly with my thumb. “And the right person will help you carry yours too. Like Henry does.” 

 

You twisted your head away.

 

“Elise, come on.”

 

You brought your knees up, wrapping your arms around them as though they were a teddy bear.

 

“Look…” I sighed and put my arm around your shoulders, resting the side of my head against yours. “I know you’re scared. Whatever happens, your life might change drastically. I get it. I promise, I get it. And I can’t guarantee Henry will pull through and everything will go back to normal. Nobody could know that for sure. But what I  _ can _ guarantee is that… I will always be here for you. Even if we argue, even if we disagree on something… big picture, I’m on your side, okay? If anyone shatters your heart into a million pieces, even if it’s me who does, I will be there helping you to pick up the pieces and glue them back together. If the unthinkable happens and Henry doesn’t survive, I will let you cry on my shoulder until your tears have dried up.” I looked you in the eyes. “There’s no rhyme or reason behind tragedy. There’s just not. There’s no great plan, there’s not always something to be learned… sometimes, there’s just pain we have to get through. But at the very least, know this… One, you’re my little doomslayer. Demons fear you. You can get through anything. I know it.” I smiled at you, and you calmly smiled back. Clearly that pet name was sticking around. “Two… until the day I die, you will never ever be alone. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

 

You looked up at me, your cheeks pink and lips parted slightly. You closed your eyes, and... if I put this any other way than “we kissed,” it would make it sound like one of us went in for it and the other just accepted it. But that’s not what happened. What happened is we kissed. And we kissed as though we’d die the moment we stopped, with passion and patience and subtle hunger. This kiss was desperate, but not fiery or violent. It was like a beautiful dance. It was a confession. It was a statement of resolve. This wasn't the sort of kiss that precedes sex; it was the sort of kiss that precedes a life together. A kiss that said “we are united, we are a set, we have a battle to fight and we are in this together.”

 

And I realized how deeply I truly loved you.

 

The kiss ended gradually, with shorter kisses and pecks leading us out. Once we’d stopped, we looked the other in the eye with the same question on our minds: 

 

_ What happens now? _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I add something like a list of songs cited to my chapter notes? Let me know if there's interest there.


	13. A Day In the Life of Dan & Phil & Elise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...See chapter title? lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this chapter being a full two days later than I expected it to be - it was VERY tough to write. It required a challenging level of subtlety & specificity in order to be realistic but still engaging.... and, of course, I'm still not 100% happy with it. Because I'm a writer. We're never "happy with it."
> 
> This is the first chapter in ages without any major twists or surprises because quite frankly they were exhausting ME. This chapter instead focuses on the interactions between Dan, Phil, and Elise. Some of these interactions are meant to be dissected and examined so please comment your interpretations of things.
> 
> There is a rather frank mention of sexual thoughts in this chapter. It kind of objectifies Elise a bit, but it's not presented as a good thing. Apologies if that bothers anyone - figured I'd warn you ahead of time.

I awoke to sunlight rudely slapping me in the face. I rolled over to escape it, and when I opened my eyes, I saw your back. I propped myself up on my elbow and could see the screen of your phone. You were playing some puzzle game with tiny adorable animals in it.

 

“Hey,” I said.

 

“G’morning,” you replied, not taking your eyes off the Samsung.

 

“How long’ve you been awake?”

 

You shrugged. “‘Bout an hour, I guess.”

 

“An hour? You okay?” I rubbed your upper arm in a way that I hoped was reassuring.

 

“Just don’t really feel like getting up.” You sounded sad. Defeated. It seemed like you’d tried to get up, or at least you’d  _ tried _ to try, and you just couldn’t.

 

“You can’t bring yourself to, can you?”

 

You put your phone down. “No,” you said with a sigh.

 

I was no stranger to the feeling. The feeling like your entire spirit was tied down, or like an invisible weighted blanket was pushing down on your body and keeping you from doing anything, even something as simple as getting out of bed or as fun as playing video games. I knew that in this moment you’d given up on even deciding whether to get out of bed or not. The answer was no, and you were too exhausted to fight with yourself any longer. And the result, which I heard in your sigh, was guilt over being “lazy.” You were beating yourself up internally for losing the fight to get out of bed.

 

When I was seeing a therapist for depression a few years before, she’d walked me through a way to talk myself into facing the day. The basic premise is that you treat getting out of bed like any huge task: you break it into tiny parts, and congratulate yourself on every single one. It never failed, because it kept things from getting overwhelming. And it didn’t involve me accusing myself of being a wuss, which I’m sure helped my self-esteem.

 

“I bet you  _ can _ get out of bed,” I said playfully.

 

“I bet I can’t.”

 

“Okay then… You don’t have to get out of bed. But just put your feet on the floor. See what happens.”

 

“What?”

 

“Demons need slaying! On your feet, soldier.”

 

You rolled onto your back and gave me a bewildered smile. “Just my feet?”

 

_ Good, she’s on board! _ I smiled warmly and nodded once. “Just your feet.”

 

“What good is that gonna do?”

 

“Don’t think about that yet, doomslayer. Don’t even worry about the demons right now, just… put your feet on the floor.”

 

You groaned, smiling a tiny bit more happily. “Fiiinnne.” And sure enough, you let one foot slide out from under the sheet and set it on the floor. “You happy?”

 

“Both feet!”

 

You groaned louder and then began laughing. It was making my heart so warm to see that you were already cheering up a little. You rotated your entire body so both feet were on the floor, but your back was still on the bed, sideways. You looked up at me so we were looking at each other upside-down. It was a delightfully ridiculous moment.

 

“That can’t possibly be comfortable,” I said, shaking my head.

 

“Not really, no.” You laughed earnestly, and I responded in kind.

 

“Sit up, come on now.”

 

“Okay, okay.”

 

You finally -- slowly -- sat up.

 

“There you go!” I said to the back of your head. “Look at you, you’re absolutely killing it. Ready for step two?”

 

“Sure. What’s step two, cooking breakfast?” I couldn’t see your eyeroll but I could certainly hear it.

 

“Good god, no. We’re not nearly ready for that yet. Try just lifting your butt up off the bed.”

 

You put your hands up on either side of yourself as though preparing to stand, then dropped them back in your lap. You turned your head slightly my way. “Not until you do.”

 

“Challenge accepted!” I said, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed to face you. Your hair was a tangled mess, your face a bit puffy. I looked into your eyes, which were surrounded by purple. I smiled at you fondly, pushing a few strands of hair out of your face. I never could get tired of doing that. “Trust me, if I can do it, so can you.”

 

Your face was serious, but I kept my eyes open and awake-looking, with a slight smile for you. I didn’t hold a hand out for you. We both knew you had to do this on your own, whenever you were ready to and not a moment before. Eventually your own face softened again and you knew I was here for you in solidarity, not pity. You put your hands down on either side of you, pushed down on the bed, and lifted yourself up.

 

You stood and faced me, looking humiliated, as though you saw yourself as weak when I knew the contrary to be true.

 

“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with having a hard time facing the world sometimes. What matters is that we _do_ face the world. It keeps turning with or without us and that can get overwhelming - we’re only human, after all. Sometimes it takes a lot of work to try and keep up with everything. And sometimes we never manage to keep up. But as long as you’re trying, you’re doing great. What’s easy for most people won’t necessarily always be easy for you. Don’t be embarrassed that you took awhile to get out of bed. Progress is progress, no matter how great or small or fast or slow it is. You’re standing up. You got out of bed. And yes, you should be proud of yourself.”

 

You smiled and hugged me tightly. There was no crying, no tension, no wishing. You were just happy you were able to get out of bed, and you were sharing that with me.

 

“Well then,” I said as we pulled away from the hug. “Now you’re standing, you may as well take a shower, right?”

 

“Aw, is that your way of saying I smell?”

 

I laughed. “Hardly. I’m actually envious of how much you don’t smell right now!”

 

With a smile you grabbed a towel from a shelf outside your ensuite bathroom. “A shower does sound good,” you said. “And to think, I didn’t even want to stand up a few minutes ago.” You headed into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Before closing the door, you added, “You should probably head downstairs before Phil wakes up.”

 

_ Oh yeah, Phil’s a thing. Holy shit, he’s going to have some questions. _

 

***

 

I typically sleep shirtless, so normally being shirtless first thing in the morning doesn’t bother me. Given the circumstances, however, I couldn’t help but hunch over self-consciously as I tiptoed downstairs. I stepped as quietly as I could to avoid waking Phil. I knew if he saw that I’d slept upstairs, I’d never hear the end of i--  _ oh shit, Phil is up. _

 

He stood there in his pajamas, bleary-eyed, his hair defying gravity. He was hard to take seriously looking like that, but his crossed arms and narrowed eyes made me freeze at the bottom of the stairs. I knew I was in for it.

 

“One. Night. You couldn't go one single night?”

 

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Jesus Christ, Phil."

 

"How could you do that? Her poor husband is _in hospital_ , for g--"

 

"We didn't have sex, Phil!”

 

Phil blinked. “Wait, really?”

 

“Why is that so shocking to you? I'm not a complete piece of shit. Yes, I slept with her in the purely literal sense. We were lying in bed, next to each other, asleep. But nothing happened.”

 

Phil raised his eyebrows questioningly.

 

“There might have also been some snuggling,” I added.

 

Phil twisted his mouth up in consideration. “You didn’t kiss her, did you?”

 

I hesitated, made a nervous face, and tapped my fingers together.

 

“Daniel James Howell!”

 

I shrugged, still making that face.

 

“What were you thinking!?”

 

“I don't know! I wasn't thinking anything!”

 

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re not thinking. This isn’t your internet girlfriend who you’re visiting for a romantic rendezvous--”

 

“Who says ‘rendezvous’ anymore?”

 

“Daniel, stop talking.” He said that with more space between each word than usual. _Wow, he is really mad._ I hadn’t seen him so mad in years, and never at me. It was unnerving. “Elise is your  _ friend _ _!_   You can’t add drama to her situation by doing something as confusing as kissing her and then sleeping next to her. We’re supposed to be  helping!  She needs us to help her get through all that everyday stuff that you have to keep up with, that the world doesn’t magically forgive when times are more stressful. Cleaning, bill-paying, dishes, laundry, errands…”

 

“Getting out of bed?” I said with a defiant tone. “Because I helped her with that this morning. I’m not completely resting on my laurels here.”

 

“Don’t justify what you did with that.”

 

“I’m not justifying it! Look, I’ll admit it was probably a mistake to go to her room last night. I won’t make excuses. But I am still focused on helping her. I haven’t lost sight of the reasons we came here.” I looked Phil in the eye, trying to psychically beam my honesty into his brain. My tone quieted slightly as I added, “I want her to be happy, you know that.”

 

Phil reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, I know. Just… be careful, okay?”

 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry for being irresponsible.” I still sounded like an incredulous child, which was uncalled for, really.

 

“Don’t apologize to  _ me _ ,” Phil said. “I’m not the one who’s getting hurt by your affection for her.”

 

Then I said something profoundly embarrassing. 

 

“Aren’t you? Because you sure are acting like a jealous boyfriend right now.”

 

I have a tendency to put my foot in my mouth in very cringe ways when I’m anxious. My brain gets foggy.

 

“Here comes the narcissist again,” Phil said. “Sorry to disappoint you but I haven’t felt that way about you in years. If Henry weren’t in the picture, you know I’d be cheering on a relationship between you and Elise; I feel like I’ve made that pretty clear. But you can’t add complexity to her life right now!”

 

“What do you want me to say? That I’ll just shut off my feelings? I can’t do that! I can only apologize and say I won’t act on those feelings again. It--”

 

“Good morning guys!”

 

Your voice arrived at the bottom of the stairs just before you did. In addition to actual non-pyjama clothing, you were wearing a smile until you noticed that Phil looked a bit grumpy with me.

 

“Boy, I sure seem to be good at interrupting fights, huh?” you said.

 

“He knows I slept upstairs,” I explained.

 

Your eyes widened slightly and you immediately turned to Phil. “I promise, he didn’t try anything,” you said in my defense. “I was just too anxious to sleep, so he helped calm me down, and he--”

 

“He kissed you, I know.” Phil looked at you with mild discontent. You gulped and held your breath. I looked from one to the other of you, like someone caught between a standoff.

 

“Phil,” I said slowly, putting my hand up. “I acknowledge the mistake, but I also implore you to remember that we didn’t do anything beyond kissing. We put a stop to it as soon as we caught ourselves. Emotions took us too far for comfort, but we stopped before more damage was done. I know  _ I _ don’t plan on us doing it again. Elise?” You traced an “x” shape over your chest, promising to behave as well. “Can we let this lie and get on with our lives, please?”

 

Phil relaxed his shoulders and sighed. “Fine. But only because I don’t want Elise to feel worse.” He disappeared into the bathroom with his clothes, shaking his head.

 

You looked unnerved. I gave you a hug and rubbed your back lightly.

 

“You clean up nicely,” I said, “but even with bedhead and sleepy eyes, you sure were beautiful this morning.” I pulled back and looked you in the face. “I didn’t really get a chance to tell you before.”

 

Your cheeks reddened, and you stopped yourself from smiling. “You probably shouldn’t say stuff like that to me,” you said rather sadly.

 

I nodded slowly. “I know.” My arms dropped as though they weighed a tonne each, and I stepped back once.

 

“You’re beautiful too, though,” you said. “You’re always beautiful.”

 

It felt like my heart inflated itself by sucking all the air out of my lungs. It’s amazing how the simplest words can have such an enormous effect. I wanted to kiss you again so badly, but maintained the physical distance between us. Good thing, that, because Phil came out right then. He'd clearly hurried so as not to leave you and I unattended for too long.

 

“What's the plan for today?” he asked, smoothing his hair down as best he could, not having groomed it properly. He still sounded a bit tense from before, but he was trying his best to push it aside.

 

“I was thinking I’d show you guys around the area so you know what’s nearby.”

 

“Probably smart,” I said. "That way we can get groceries or something if you ever need it."

 

“I can’t drive though,” Phil said. “Dan will have to drive anywhere if it comes up .”

 

“Fair warning, we drive on the  _ correct _ side of the road over in the UK,” I joked. Kind of. “Not that I do all that much driving anyway, If I’m honest. I’ll probably acclimate pretty quickly.”

 

“Don’t get pulled over, though," Phil warned me. "Your licence might not be valid here. And I hear Texas cops can be really scary.”

 

“Regardless, nobody's doing anything until we’ve eaten breakfast,” you said, stopping the bickering about who’d be driving if it was necessary. “I’m getting hangry, so the logistics of this are making my head hurt.” You started walking toward the kitchen, but stopped yourself and turned to face me. “Dan… you should probably get some clothes on while I’m making food.”

 

I realized then that I was still in my pants; a stark contrast to you and Phil, who appeared mostly ready to face the day. “Ah… yes. Probably a good idea.”

 

I grabbed a change of clothes and headed into the toilet to get presentable.

 

I always found it weird how, in movies, people who felt guilty would stare at themselves in the mirror, having some internal dialogue about how horrible and evil they were. But really, there is something… off-putting about looking at yourself for the first time after doing something you know to be wrong. You know, something like kissing someone who’s already married, and whose spouse is in a vulnerable and helpless position where he can’t possibly fight to save his relationship.

 

My hands on the edge of the sink, I leaned forward and studied my face.  _ “Beautiful,” she says. Hah. _ I thought I looked like a walking corpse. I didn't perceive my pale skin, darkened eyes, or disheveled hair as symptoms of sleepiness, but instead as evidence that I was a monster of some sort.

 

**_I love her. She loves me. Why shouldn’t I pursue something?_ **

_ I’m answering my own question here. I love her. I want what's best for her. Henry could take better care of her than I ever could. _

**_Not if he's hospitalized. Not if he dies._ **

_ He’s alive right now. It would be cruel to take someone he loves away from him. _

**_She's a person, not a thing. She's not a doll kept in a glass case. Who she’s with is her choice._ **

_ And maybe she’d choose me now, but if she’d cheat  _ with _ me, she would cheat  _ on _ me too. _

**_Who cares about that right now? Come on, you’re a hot-blooded human being. You’ve got needs that aren’t being met very often anymore. Didn't her lips taste sweet?_ **

_ I do love kissing her. But it can’t happen again, and it certainly can’t go any further. _

**_Does oral sex technically count as sex?_ **

_ Oh my god Dan, shut your brain up. _

**_Seriously though, I wonder what she tastes like._ **

_ Probably like sweat, metal, and white wine. Just like any other girl. _

**_I wonder how she’d think I taste?_ **

_ Probably not great. _

**_Her butt is amazing, isnt it? It's just screaming out to be grabbed. Imagine fucking her from behind._ **

_ No. _

**_I wonder if she takes it up the arse._ **

_ Doesn’t matter if she does or not. It's not information I'll ever use. _

**_I can't help but wonder what she likes. What she’d want._ **

_ It’s not my job to give her what she wants. That’s her husband’s job. _

**_But_ ** **does** **_he give her what she wants? Not from the sound of things. I would though._ **

_ But I won’t. Not as long as she’s married to someone else. Like I told Phil, I’m not a complete piece of shit. _

 

I heard a knock.

 

“Hey,” your giggly voice rang through the door. It sounded like the tension between you and Phil had dissipated, because your mood had clearly improved. “Did you fall in the toilet or something?”

 

“No, my clothes came to life! I'm doing battle with them.”

 

You laughed. God, I loved hearing you laugh. “Well, once you're done with that, breakfast is almost ready. Pancakes and bacon!”

 

“Okay, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

 

“‘Kay!” A pause, and then you returned, “And remember to take your medication if you haven’t yet. Phil reminded me to take mine, so I figured I’d remind you.”

 

I laughed. “Thanks, Leese.”

 

I had indeed forgotten again.  _ Sometimes I honestly have no idea what I’d do without those two. _

 

When I came out, fully dressed and with my curly hair at least somewhat respectably arranged on the top of my head, you were showing Phil your collection of tabletop games in the credenza and china cabinet in your dining room. I should have known you wouldn’t have a collection of nice looking dishes but instead stacks upon stacks of board games, card games, strategy games, and role-playing games. Warhammer, Fluxx, Splendor, King of Tokyo, Munchkin… it seemed like your collection hit all the basic notes and then some. I hadn’t noticed it when we first arrived and now I was wondering how I’d glossed over it.

 

“There you are!” you said upon spotting me. “We were waiting for you before we got started eating. I was always taught it was polite to wait until everyone was seated.”

 

I waved that off somewhat bashfully. “That’s not necessary,” I said. “We’re not worth that kind of consideration.”

 

“Look at you, being self-deprecating as a defense mechanism as usual. You  _ are _ worth it, now sit your ass down and eat. I’m hungry.” You held your flatware like a giant about to feast on some sort of helpless pancake creature. I happily acquiesced to your demand.

 

Breakfast was nothing but smiles. We forgot all our troubles and stresses, and it felt like me and Phil had known you for years, not less than one year.

 

We turned on some music and helped you with the dishes afterward. And we were absolute children about it, every one of us. We made beards out of foam on one another’s faces and popped bubbles as they floated through the air. At one point, the slippery kitchen floor led to me having to catch you before you fell down, and we shared an accidental hug right out of a romcom movie. Although at the time, of course, I was just worried about you -- it was only later that I thought about how adorable that moment probably looked from the outside.

 

Once we got ourselves and your kitchen cleaned up, we got into your car and you drove us around the neighborhood. We made note of where the grocery store, pharmacy, urgent care center, and McDonald’s were. You also pointed out a burger place where all the hamburgers and meals were named after K-Pop groups. It was the most random thing I’d ever heard of, and I knew we had to go there for dinner at some point.

 

 

At the end of our outing, we took a quick detour to Daiso -- basically a Japanese Poundland equivalent that you were lucky enough to have down the street. Me and Phil, being the weeb trash that we are, felt right at home there. They had animal hats, t-shirts (one with a Panda on it that said “I am not a Panda” so naturally I now own that), tiny adorable organizational things, snacks, office supplies, kitchen gadgets, and anything you might need to create the most adorable character bento ever. Phil couldn’t resist purchasing a mug with a cat on it. You just got about fifty varieties of Pocky.

 

***

 

Once we got back to your house, Phil was still quite energetic, but you and I were exhausted. Leaving the house had a tendency to be rather draining for me on its own anyway, but given your general emotional state, you were in desperate need of alone time. You made sure me & Phil knew how to make video games happen, then went upstairs into your office and closed the door.

 

“She’s like an American girl version of you sometimes, I swear,” Phil said as he turned on your SNES Classic.

 

I smiled. “I hope she’s okay,” I mused.

 

“I’m sure she just needs to recharge, same as you do sometimes.”

 

“I mean in general. She seems like her sanity is balanced on a knife’s edge these days.”

 

“Don't worry, I'm sure us being around to help will make it easier on her. When we can’t distract her from the pain, we can at least make it so it’s not so hard to bear.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

We played Super Mario Kart until we got bored of it, then took turns with Super Metroid and EarthBound. It had been hours and it was getting dark outside. We hadn’t heard anything from you since you went upstairs. I glanced up a few times.

 

Phil sighed, amused. “Do you want to go check on her?” he asked knowingly.

 

“I’m sure she’s fine.”

 

Phil just looked at me. I'd said "fine" again.

 

“Yeah, I’m worried,” I admitted. “I haven’t heard her walking around, I haven’t heard her laugh, I haven’t heard her talk.”

 

“Go on, go check. If you’re not back in five minutes, though, I’m sending the sex police after you.”

 

“Sex police? Phil. Really?”

 

Phil laughed at himself. He knew how ridiculous that sounded, he always knows how ridiculous he sounds when he says stuff like that. "Sorry, sorry. I'll be down here, you go make sure she's okay."

 

I headed upstairs and knocked lightly on your office door. Hearing no answer, I cracked the door open and looked inside. I saw your back, curved over your Casio keyboard, and you were playing it with headphones on. I couldn’t hear what you were playing, of course, but you were absolutely lost in it. Eventually you stopped, turned towards your PC which was to your right. You saw me out of the corner of your eye and jumped about ten meters in the air.

 

“Jesus Christ, Dan!” you laughed, taking your headphones off. “You scared the shit out of me.”

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt you! I haven’t been watching you like a creeper for very long, I promise.”

 

“It’s alright.” Still smiling, you clicked something on your computer.

 

“What are you up to?” I asked.

 

“Just getting some feels out of my system,” you replied, gesturing to the keyboard. "I've been working on the backing track for a song. No vocals yet, but it's fun to practice some production skills."

 

“Can I listen?” I asked hesitantly. I was genuinely curious, but I was pretty sure you’d say no.

 

“Uh… I mean… I guess? It’s still definitely a work in progress, but sure.” You beckoned me over and I stood next to you. You handed me your headphones and pressed play on your computer as I put them on.

 

The beat was complex, the harmonies dark. I could tell where vocals were intended to go, as the lead synth would drop out, but the arrangement remained heavy. You used very deep bass and reverb on some of the piano in order to give it texture and atmosphere. It sounded tense, frustrated…. And mostly sad. The track sounded like it was standing its ground in the face of tragedy. Like you, I supposed.

 

When the partial track was finished playing, I handed your headphones back to you. “That is really something.”

 

“Thanks. It’s the first thing I’ve really taken seriously. I’m shit at lyrics though, I have no idea what to do for that part. Or who’s gonna sing it.”

 

“Your voice is nice. It’s your song, you should sing it. Wouldn’t sound right coming from anyone else.”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

 

“I could help with the lyrics, if you want. You should still write them, but I can help with word choice or something maybe. I mean, I’m not sure I’d be much help, but you did tell me once that you liked my writing.”

 

You let a smile slowly creep across your face. “Maybe.”

 

We just looked at each other for a moment. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I’m gonna head back downstairs. Phil will wonder what’s taking me so long. Just wanted to make sure you were doing okay, is all.”

 

“Alright. Are you guys okay down there on your own? I can come back down if you’re like, fighting with the TV or anything.”

 

“No, we’re good. Feel free to come down whenever you like, we’d be happy to have you, but we’re okay until you’re ready to come down.”

 

“Alright. I’m gonna work on this until I get stuck then. Maybe I'll see you guys later tonight.”

 

“‘Kay.” I ducked out. “Love you!” I said quietly.

 

“Love you too!” you smiled, making a “shoo!” motion.

 

I sauntered down the stairs, where Phil was checking things on his phone. “Is she okay?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, she’s making music on her computer. It’s sounding really good so far.”

 

“Well that’s cool.” Phil sounded legitimately impressed.

 

I picked up a controller. “Shall we?”

 

“Yes, let’s... shall?” Me and Phil laughed as he struggled to grammatically answer the question. _What a spork._

 

We played games until bedtime. You just continued working on your music. You eventually came down, but by then the living room was darkened and quiet, and I was nearly asleep. Phil was out cold. I could hear the fabric of your clothes rustle as you knelt by the sofa bed and looked at me. I felt your hand run down my cheek. The last thing I remember from that night was feeling you kiss my forehead lightly. I think you whispered something, but I’m not sure if I was dreaming or if it was real. I just remember feeling calm wash over me as I drifted off to sleep.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do want to clarify where I stand on something: Dan helping Elise get out of bed was a bit presumptuous. Not everyone who feels depressed needs the same thing, and Dan was being arrogant here, basing what Elise needed on his own experience. It's that bad habit of filling in the blanks with himself when he should be listening to Elise rather than making assumptions. It just so happened that the step-by-step approach was exactly what she needed. It was lucky on his part, because Elise really IS that similar to him. That's all.
> 
> Don't assume anyone who's feeling depressed needs what worked for you. Listen before you give advice that may or may not be welcome.
> 
> That is all :)


	14. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of moments during Dan & Phil's stay at Elise's house. Dan begins to feel more at home, and he and Elise finally realize exactly what the dynamic between them is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me all freaking weekend to write. So much editing! But it had to be paced exactly right, since it takes place over a fairly lengthy span of time.

I woke up Monday morning to a mostly quiet house, save for your muffled voice. I walked upstairs, still in my pants (which I felt oddly comfortable doing by now), and stood by your closed office door.

 

“...interaction isn’t really as intuitive as you’d expect given how ubiquitous it is. ….Yeah. …. Ah, I see what you’re going for. Okay. So what I’m hearing is that you want to prioritize the online catalog first and then the contact information? ...Got it. So instead of a carousel, since all that does is hide things, let’s use the page layout to create the hierarchy you want, and if you put the link for your contact info in the footer, believe it or not, people will look there for it.”

 

The conversation continued and I eventually heard you say some “bye”s and “thank you”s before hanging up. I knocked lightly.

 

“Yeah?” you said.

 

I peeked my head in. “Good morning, you.”

 

“Good morning!”

 

“Sorry to bother you for such a stupid question but were you seriously on a work call right then?”

 

“Yup, work is still a thing sadly.”

 

“It’s only 7:30 AM though!”

 

“East coast client.”

 

“Ah. Well that’s lame. Do you at least get to stop your work day at like 3 in the afternoon?”

 

“I wish. Rarely gets to happen. I do sometimes find a long lunch break in the middle of the day but it’s not usually enough time to do anything substantial or really relax at all.”

 

“No wonder you’re exhausted all the time.”

 

“Speaking of exhausted, you’re definitely up early. Did you sleep okay?”

 

“Yeah. It’s getting easier to fall asleep in a strange house. Staying asleep is still rough for me though. Phil doesn’t appear to have any issues, the lucky bastard.”

 

You smiled. “Well, as long as you’re up, and I don’t have another meeting for about two hours, I haven’t had breakfast yet and I’d imagine you just got up yourself. Wanna get something to eat with me? There’s an IHOP around the corner.”

 

I shook my head slowly. “No way I could do that to Phil. If he found out I went to IHOP without him, he’d probably mourn the loss of pancakes the way he mourns the death of one of his plants.”

 

“Fair enough!”

 

“Not to say I don’t still want to do breakfast or coffee or something. Just… not something that would make me feel like I’m cheating on Phil.”

 

We both laughed before you finished. “Well… let’s get some real clothes on and we’ll go. I know a good place.”

 

“Is this a date?”

 

“With you standing there shirtless, I am so tempted to say yes.”

 

***

 

“What the hell are ‘bennies’?” I asked, baffled at how many times I saw the word on this place’s menu.

 

“Eggs benedict,” you laughed. “It says it right there.” You pointed.

 

I felt silly. “Well. _Now_ it’s cute and clever, now I know what it means.”

 

You shook your head. “You judge things so quickly. You get over it fast, but jeez, the first thirty seconds of you finding anything new… like a whirlwind, I swear. If I remember correctly you hated me for the first few minutes you interacted with me.”

 

I chuckled at the memory along with you. It seemed so ridiculous now.

 

I looked up from my menu to watch you diligently searching yours for something you liked. Something about your face when you were unaware of anyone watching you… well, I found it compelling and beautiful. To me, that was what you really looked like. No posing, no posturing. You were just… being.

 

You ended up getting a very traditional and straightforward American breakfast that included pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast. I, however, got something insanely unhealthy - stuffed french toast, which was a mess of bread, cream cheese, fruit, caramel, and corn flakes. It was absolutely decadent and completely ridiculous, and I never wanted to leave Texas if it meant I could have more of it.

 

We also got coffee drinks that were definitely closer to sweets than coffee, just as nature intended.

 

Once we were done eating, you suddenly said “Oh yeah, I almost forgot…”

 

You reached into your purse and grabbed your keyring. You took one silver colored key off and handed it to me.

 

“I always come into the house through the garage, so I really don’t think I’ll need this while you guys are staying with me. This should make you feel a bit less trapped.”

 

Okay, here’s the thing… This was a completely sensible gesture, and there was every logical reason for you to do this. But on a more basic psychological and emotional level, you handing me your house key felt oddly intimate. It felt like your house was our home now, however temporary that might be. It was a gesture of you accepting our presence, and it made me feel warm.

 

***

 

Early on Tuesday afternoon, it occurred to me that it was almost time for my usual live show.

 

“Phil… I have to do my show in like two hours. I never told fans that I wouldn’t be able to do a show today.”

 

“Well then you should do your show,” Phil replied, somewhat amused.

 

“What do I tell them?”

 

“About what?”

 

“Why I’m obviously not at our apartment, you dingus. It’s not like this place has a decor scheme anything like ours. It’s like perpetual autumn in here. Our place is more like perpetual winter.”

 

Phil laughed at my unnecessary panic. “Just say we’re visiting a friend in America. Ooh! Tell them _nothing_ else, and they’ll probably _love_ theorizing about it.”

 

I smiled at Phil’s weird excitement. “They probably would have fun with that, yes.”

 

“If any of Elise’s viewers recognize the house, Tumblr will be a lot of fun tonight.”

 

“Or horrifying.”

 

“When is it not horrifying?”

 

“Good point.” I stood up and called upstairs. “Hey, Elise?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Is there somewhere I can do my live show in about two hours?”

 

You emerged from your office and looked down so we could see each other. “Yeah, what do you need, just someplace quiet for like an hour?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, I’ll probably go between my office & bedroom all afternoon, Phil will want to stay downstairs and play games or watch whatever… that leaves either the bathrooms, or Henry’s office.”

 

“Would Henry mind?”

 

“Well for one thing, he’s literally in a coma and won’t have any idea you’re in there. For another thing, you’re just gonna talk to your iPhone for an hour so I doubt there’s much risk of you breaking anything.”

 

“True,” I said. “Thanks, Leese!”

 

“No problem,” you said and got back to work.

 

I did my show, seeing numerous questions about where I was. I did what Phil suggested - just said that he and I were visiting a friend of ours in America. I saw your name show up in the chat numerous times, always with question marks though. Phil was right - Tumblr would be buzzing after this.

 

***

 

“Hey, Elise?” I yelled upstairs. “Is the internet out?”

 

I heard a *thump* and you swearing under your breath. “Yeah, hang on, I’m resetting the router.”

 

I smiled at how you pronounced “router.” So American.

 

“Fuck,” you said half a minute later, louder this time. “Uh… shit. Hang on guys.”

 

Phil looked at me, I looked at Phil, and we both looked up.

 

We followed you with our eyes as you eventually came down the stairs in a hurry and looked at the markerboard on the wall. “Shitshitshitshitshit SHIT.”

 

You took out your cell phone, headed back upstairs without so much as a glance at us, and started talking to a customer service representative.

 

“She forgot to pay the bill, I’m guessing,” Phil said.

 

“I’m guessing the same. Henry probably usually takes care of this one.”

 

“Yup.”

 

Once the internet was back, you confirmed our theory was true. You were so embarrassed by the whole thing; I felt awful for you. I gave you a hug, Phil joked around with you about it, and after just a few minutes you were alright. But in the meantime, watching you feel like a failure was mildly heartbreaking.

 

***

 

In the middle of the night, I heard a loud, steady siren go off in the distance and woke up with a start.

 

“What the hell?” I mumbled.

 

My voice awakened Phil. “Hm?” was all he managed to articulate.

 

A light came on above the stairwell like a spotlight on you as you descended. “Let’s hang out in the pantry, boys.” Once you got to the bottom of the stairs you tossed a set of our pyjamas at each of us. “To preserve your dignity should the worst befall this house.”

 

We were incredibly confused and still only half-awake as we pulled on our lounge pants and t-shirt, and we followed you into your pantry under the stairs. Once we were huddled inside, I regretted not brushing my teeth particularly thoroughly before bed the previous night.

 

You had your phone out and were looking at a weatherman’s twitter page.

 

I figured out what was going on, snapped my fingers, and pointed at you. “Tornado.”

 

Phil, who’d been staring into space sleepily, suddenly perked up. “Wait, what?”

 

You smiled a bit. “Yep. Siren means there’s one that’s formed in the area. It may or may not touch down, chances are nothing will happen, but it’s safest to prepare.”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to get in a cellar or basement or something?” Phil sounded absolutely petrified.

 

You shook your head, looking mildly apologetic. “The ground is too hard around here. Digging down for a basement is insanely expensive, so hardly anyone has one. Safest thing to do is to get somewhere away from windows in the middle of your house’s ground floor. Last place I lived, that meant getting in the bathtub. Not comfortable, lemme tell you.”

 

Phil let out a squeaky whine and hugged his knees.

 

“Oh shit,” you mumbled, looking at your phone.

 

“What is it?”

 

Howling winds outside and the pantry light flickering off for a second answered my question.

 

We sat in stunned silence. It was oddly reassuring that you appeared just as scared as we were. Well, as scared as I was. Phil was considerably more disturbed by the whole ordeal.

 

You went right back to looking at that twitter feed, then going back and forth between it and a dedicated weather app. The lights flickered again.

 

After a few minutes, the wind calmed. After a few more, so did Phil.

 

“I think we’re probably good…?” you ventured. A steadier siren went off outside. You exhaled as though you’d been holding your breath the entire half-hour or so we were in the pantry. “That’s the all-clear.”

 

You led the way as we filed out of the washroom-sized cupboard. You cupped your hands around your face so you could see out the back window. “Well, one of my trees has been ripped out of the freaking ground. So… that’s great.” You opened the back door, and I could see that a tree on the left side of your garden had indeed been uprooted and was standing diagonally as though balanced on one foot. You stepped out the back door in your robe and slippers, and looked to the side of your house. “Oh god dammit!” you said in a loud whisper.

 

“What’s wrong?” I followed you until I saw what you saw. A stretch of your fence had fallen completely flat on the ground, having given up on life altogether. “Aw. Me too, fence, me too.” This made you smile and playfully punch my shoulder.

 

***

 

Phil wasn’t wrong about Tumblr freaking out after my live show. Indeed, a few fans knew your house and knew we were visiting you - however, because I’d chosen your husband’s office to do my show in, and you’d never made a video in there, your fans looked for very specific angles in your vlogs showing what Henry’s office looked like from the side. They matched his shelves to the shelves behind me, and voila - your fans are just as insane as ours.

 

After a few weeks of staying at your place, we realized we had no more pre-made videos to post while we were away from home. So we did a collaboration. You thought it would help your “introvert vs extrovert” video idea to have us as cast members in it, and we figured it would calm our relative fanbases down, thus protecting you from some of the crazier folk out there.

 

Your video was actually a very good one about living as an introvert in an extrovert’s world, especially when you have a hard time following through on personal projects. “We’re all only as valuable as the value people see in us,” you said in the video. Sad but true. Anyway, my job was to play an introvert trying to show drawings to a boss, played by you, but being too polite and avoiding bothering her; Phil’s job was to play the extrovert showing everyone his drawings,including the boss, with no trouble. In the next shot, my character is homeless with a hat in front of him asking for coins with beautiful artwork behind me (some of your old paintings were used as props), while Phil is throwing play money into the air with crappy crayon art behind him. It was a fate I feared for most of my teen years, actually.

 

It was pretty powerful stuff, honestly. One of your better vlogs, and I’m not just saying that because I was in it.

 

You and Phil did a collab video that was considerably more lighthearted. He just used some of those Table Topics cards (which we found at a bookstore one day when hanging out) to ask you some questions. I learned very little new about you, which I found interesting. I couldn’t tell if Phil was deliberately choosing softball questions so you wouldn’t feel like you were revealing anything too private, or if I really just knew you that well by now.

 

I did a storytime video about our little near-miss tornado adventure. We all played ourselves in the cutaways, which were dramatized slightly but I made sure to capture Phil’s abject terror as faithfully as possible. You and I gave him shit about having to relive the trauma. Fun times.

 

***

 

“Where’s Elise?” I asked Phil, who was sitting on the couch with an XBox controller in his hand.

 

“Outside,” he said, not looking away from his game.

 

I walked between him and the TV and headed to the back door. I peered outside to see you lying on a blanket, on your back, knees up, hands folded on your chest. Curious, I stepped out and closed the door behind me.

 

Having heard the door, you looked over, and your face lit up with a wide grin. “Hey!” you greeted me.

 

“Hi there. What are you up to?” I approached the blanket.

 

“Just thinking about how constellations are all either really boring, or really tryhard. Or both. I mean, who looks at 5 stars in a ‘W’ shape and says ‘that’s a reclining queen! Cassiopeia!’”

 

“Ummm… Lots of K-Pop fans before about 2009?” I said, very proud of my reference to the group TVXQ, whose CDs you had in spades.

 

“Ha ha, very funny.”

 

“Hey, that was a quality reference! That was some O.G. K-Pop street cred right there.” I knew I sounded ridiculous, but I’m terrible at flirting, okay?

 

You laughed at me though, which I think was mostly good. “No it wasn’t! I was listening to Lee Jung Hyun and H.O.T in like 2001.”

 

I put my hands on my hips incredulously. “That hurts, you know,” I joked. “May I?” I gestured to the blanket.

 

You scooted yourself over to leave me room, and I lay down next to you, but inverted, so my head was next to your chest, your head was next to my chest, and my feet were pointing the opposite direction from yours.

 

“I’m so jealous that you get to see stars,” I said. “Can’t see them in London. Too much pollution, light or otherwise.”

 

“Yeah, I used to live closer to Dallas proper and you couldn’t see a thing. I love living out here though, being far enough away from civilization to see them.”

 

I was slightly disappointed you didn’t make some kind of “well then move down here” suggestion. I’m not sure why I wanted you to say that, since I wouldn’t have been able to take you up on it. And perhaps you knew that. But it still would have been nice to hear.

 

“I think I have to be in the right mood to look at the stars, though,” I said. “They’re so beautiful and so fascinating, but sometimes it’s like… it’s too much, you know?”

 

“I definitely understand,” you said. “Here we are, stuck to the side of a rock hurtling through a great dark void at speeds that would absolutely rip our faces off if we went that fast on a rollercoaster, and the only thing keeping us here is the fact that not enough time has passed for us to be gone yet.”

 

“Welp, there goes my ability to sleep tonight,” I laughed. You laughed.

 

“I’m sorry,” you replied, still in a good mood.

 

“You seem… I dunno, like… better,” I observed.

 

“Better?”

 

“Yeah. When Phil and I got here a few weeks ago, there’s no way you could have possibly talked about your place in the universe like that.”

 

“I guess I’m just… having an easier time accepting reality right now.”

 

“And it’s not that Phil and I have washed multiple loads of laundry that include your underwear?”

 

You laughed again and hit me in a manner that was intended to be playful, but actually hurt.

 

“Ow!” I said, laughing just as hard as you were.

 

“Oh god I’m sorry!” you said through a smile.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

 

We calmed down and kept looking up. I put my hand next to my head, my palm face up, so my hand was next to yours. You moved your hand over top of mine and let our fingers weave together.

 

“Do you ever worry that you don’t really matter in the context of all this?” I asked.

 

“All the time.”

 

“I just see all of these stars, knowing that there are billions more we can’t see, and nothing I do here will ever have any effect on any of it… and even the things I do here will evaporate to nothingness one day. In the grand scheme of things, I wonder if I’m important at all.”

 

“Well, of course not. You’re only human.”

 

“Gee, thanks.”

 

“I mean it. But what you’re asking for is to have an effect on the universe that you literally couldn’t comprehend even if you had that effect.”

 

“I guess.”

 

“You know when something matters to _you_. You can feel it when you’re hurt or scared or happy or satisfied. You can’t feel it when an asteroid hits Jupiter and makes another big red spot temporarily. You might be aware of it, through news reports and stuff, but how does it really affect you and your life? How does it matter? It doesn’t. It can’t. It’s too big, it’s too far away.”

 

“What’s your point?”

 

“My point is… what you feel matters to you. And what you make your fans, friends, and loved ones feel… well… that does matter to _us_.”

 

“Are you having a Hazel Grace Lancaster moment?”

 

“Well, yeah, kind of! I’m not mad at you the way she was mad at Augustus, but… I do hope you realize that what you do here on earth, in your short life, really does matter. That the people you make happy are still important. And you’re still important to them. And to me. I mean, fuck context, fuck the universe. Whatever it does out there, billions of light years away, doesn’t matter to how you feel, so why should what _you_ do matter to the universe?”

 

I let go of your hand and repositioned myself so I was laying next to you properly. I had something to say and I wanted to look at you. So I did. You looked back at me.

 

“Hi there,” you said.

 

“Hi,” I smiled. “I’m about to say something extraordinarily cheesy, so I apologize in advance.”

 

You chuckled a bit. “You’re forgiven in advance.”

 

“Right now, at this very second, stars are colliding and bursting somewhere I’m completely unaware of. Off in the distance, fires are burning and volcanoes are erupting and I have no idea about any of it. Life is probably beginning on some alien world, the sparks of awareness are appearing in some newly evolved species that we’ll never have any idea about. But none of the magic of that, none of the light or wonder of any of it, could possibly match the sparkle I see when I look into the universe that is your eyes. I may feel small in the context of that universe up there, but compared to you I feel… absolutely tiny. Helpless. Useless. Miniscule. Worthless. I don’t want the things I do to necessarily matter to Jupiter or the stars in Cassiopeia, but I do want to matter to you. Because you matter to me more than I ever thought possible.”

 

_Holy fucking shit did I seriously just say something like that? That was amazing! God damn I am GOOD. ...Wait, she hasn’t responded yet. Fuck. Did I mess up?_

 

You exhaled sharply, blinking rapidly, and looked back up at the sky again. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t say stuff like that to me?” I sat up and stayed where I was, keeping my moderate distance as I turned my head and looked at you over my shoulder. You were smiling very genuinely, but you kept your eyes on the stars, and in the darkness I could see the shine of a tear rolling down from the corner of your eye to the top of your ear. I resisted wiping it away. I wanted to shrink and disappear.

 

“I… I’m not sure what reaction I expected. I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.” I started to get up, but you grabbed my hand and stopped me.

 

“Don’t go.”

 

“Why not? What do you want me to say to you?”

 

“Nothing. Everything. Anything. I don’t know. Just stay with me.”

 

“Elise... “ I turned a bit more so I could look at you more easily. “Remember how we were talking about you suddenly not needing Henry anymore, and him needing you instead, and how that may have fucked up the dynamic between you?”

 

“Yeah,” you replied, looking confused about my point.

 

“Well… aren’t you scared of the same thing happening again? Like if you and I… if anything happens between us…”

 

You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at me quizzically. “Why would I be scared of that?”

 

“I just… I sometimes feel like… I need you.” I avoided eye contact, picking at the fuzz pilling on the blanket. “And if instead you suddenly needed me, would that fuck everything up?”

 

You looked absolutely baffled. “Dan, what on earth are you talking about? I do need you. That’s why you and Phil are here, isn’t it?”

 

I felt like such a gigantic idiot right then.

 

I hadn’t even noticed that you and I were relying on each other. I’d felt like everything I did for you was completely normal and understandable and in no way special. But every time I forgot something, or needed help working through my feelings, I felt like those were major personal failures on my part. It simply hadn’t occurred to me that I was holding myself to an unreasonable double standard for needing and being needed.

 

You sat up, putting a hand on my leg, and I could feel your eyes on me. “Who coaches me through panic attacks? Who helps me get out of bed one step at a time? Who does my goddamn laundry? You guys. Well, mostly you.” I could hear the smile in your voice. It was calming and lovely. “I remind you to take your medication, reassure you that you matter, and let you film at my house, sure, but I think you do way more for me.”

 

I looked at you, feeling my face redden.

 

“That’s funny... because I feel like you do more for me. On top of that, you take care of yourself. To me you’re like this magical superhero or something.”

 

“The feeling’s mutual.” You smiled brightly and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“We’re ridiculous.” I smiled warmly, looking into your eyes. I wanted to kiss you, but… I glanced up at the house to see into the living room. One small lamp on an end table was turned on, and that was enough for me to see that inside, Phil was clearly fast asleep.

 

You turned your head to look at the house also, and when you looked back at me you were grinning mischievously. You apparently had the same idea I did.

 

“Fuck it,” I said aloud, the both of us smiling, and went in for the kiss we were both so desperate for. It was a passionate, fiery kiss full of a good deal more sexual energy than our first. Based on the way your hands were moving, I was clearly not the only one who felt that way. Your fingers were all over me, grabbing my hair, squeezing my shoulder, rubbing my leg, attempting to push my shirt up…

 

I pulled away from the kiss. “We uh… we should probably go inside.” I let out a nervous laugh.

 

You nodded. “We are going to have to be so quiet!” you laughed almost silently and I nodded back at you.

 

We stood up, picked up the blanket, and walked hand in hand towards the back door of the house. I slid it as slowly as I could, just enough so that there was space for us to walk through comfortably. You closed the door behind us, cleverly timing slides with Phil’s snoring to make sure he heard nothing. Once it was closed, you latched it, and we tiptoed past Phil. We smiled at each other at the bottom of the stairs, both slightly nervous that the stairs would creak. You tested the first two steps, then signaled to me that I should walk on the left side where my steps would be silent.

 

We made our way up to your room, you tossed the blanket onto the top of your laundry, and we picked right back up where we left off. You pulled my shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor. We kept kissing, only breaking apart again when I did the same to you. Your fingers worked their way down to my jeans when I had a moment of lucid panic.

 

“Wait, wait, stop…” I said. “We really shouldn’t.”

 

You smiled and shook your head. “I decided today. When Henry wakes up, I’m filing for divorce.”

 

“Wh… what?”

 

“Remember how you said how Phil showed you what kind of relationship you wanted to be in?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You… you’ve shown me what kind of relationship I want to be in. So today I was thinking that… it would be dishonest to stay with Henry. And… tonight when it turned out that you hadn’t realized that you and I needed each other, I mean… that just solidified my decision. I want a relationship that’s balanced, where we both need each other but it’s not like codependency, you know? Something healthy with mutual respect and… I… maybe that’s with you, I don’t know! But... I do know... that’s what I want.”

 

I just stared in disbelief. “Are you saying…”

 

“Dan, I want you. I want to be with you.” You said it without desperation or anxiety or shame. Your tone was one of conviction and resolve and honesty. You wanted me. You really, truly wanted me and only me and god I wanted you too. I wanted you and I needed you and you wanted and needed me right back.

 

Overcome with the blissful combination of excitement and relief, I kissed you.

 

And the sex that night was un-fucking-believable.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so.... do I write it, or don't I? I am scared out of my mind of writing it. But I kinda want to write a really like... sweet, realistic, kind of silly sex scene, too. I dunno. 
> 
> You guys are gonna tell me to write it, I don't even know why I'm bothering to ask. lol


	15. "Kaeru"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dalise is canon now!" Phil squealed. "I'm so happy!"
> 
> And then Elise gets a call from the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for an emotional rollercoaster.
> 
> The title is japanese for both "going home" and "change," and I spent all night trying to think of a good title for this chapter... it's the only thing I could think of that summed it up. 
> 
> (It's also Japanese for "frog" but that meaning isn't relevant. lol)

When you’re slowly lowering yourself into a swimming pool, there’s a moment when the water is just to your shoulders and you can feel the increased pressure around your chest. Your lungs have to work just a small bit harder to do what they’ve literally always done your entire life. And even though you’re upright, it feels like something is pushing down on you, like something new has been added to you, and air feels like it’s more precious than it really is. You’re not scared, in fact you’re quite comfortable; but the sensation is a strange and unique one if you let yourself take a moment and feel it.

 

That feeling - of being embraced, with my lungs constricting, and air being as valuable as treasure all of a sudden - was how I felt kissing you.

 

I ran my fingers through your hair, near the root, and lightly grabbed - just enough to move your head to the side and take my lips to your neck. I dragged my lower lip upward to meet my top lip where they conspired to mark their territory. You moaned as I breathed you in, smelling your shampoo again - cherry blossoms and lavender.

 

My mind went back to your visit to London, and how I felt in your embrace outside my flat. I’d wanted you to kiss me, to tell me you loved and wanted me. I’d wanted our time alone together to never end.

 

And now here I was, biting at your earlobe and letting myself be intoxicated by your smell and the feeling of your chest softly pressed against mine as you reached up around my shoulders. You brought your mouth close to my ear.

 

“I like it rough,” you whispered, your hot breath making my hair stand on end.

 

“How rough?” I said in a low voice, smirking knowingly. I already had ideas of where I wanted to go if you were willing.

 

You smiled a crooked smile and pulled away from me. You walked into your closet, leaving me stood out in the bedroom proper wondering what those sliding and clinking noises were.

 

You emerged with a belt.

 

“Whatever you think I want you to do with this… you’re probably right.”

 

My mouth hung open, my eyebrows raised. “Well well,” I said. “You’d best behave then.”

 

You backed yourself up close to the bed, and I pushed you down onto it. I took the belt from your hand and slid my body over yours, kissing you hard and biting your lower lip.

 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” I said.

 

“I’d look sexier with red marks on my ass,” you replied.

 

I laughed. “Holy shit you are unbelievable. How did I get so lucky?”

 

“You haven’t gotten lucky yet,” you quipped.

 

“I’d better get on that, then.”

 

***

 

“Why are you just staring at me?”

 

“What else am I gonna do while you’re putting the condom on?”

 

“You could touch yourself.”

 

You laughed. “I’m too shy for that.”

 

“I literally had my fingers in your ass while slapping you with a belt a few minutes ago, and you’re too shy to masturbate in front of me?”

 

“There’s a line, Howell!”

 

I laughed, and you laughed too. 

 

"Oh shit, I'm trying to put it on backwards!"

 

We kept laughing. I never thought laughing so much during sex would actually make it better.

 

***

 

I figured if you weren’t gonna use your hands, I was just going to tie them to the bed. That belt really did come in handy.

 

As I pushed myself into you, I looked into your eyes. “You like that?”

 

“God yes,” you said, panting. “Faster, please faster…”

 

I did as you commanded, responding to your rhythmic moaning by thrusting a tiny bit faster each time.

 

“Oh, fuck yeah...” you whined desperately.

 

I glanced up at your restrained wrists. Your fingers were curling around the belt, clawing at it like you were a desperate animal.

 

“Come for me,” I whispered.

 

Your face was already flushed, I knew you weren’t too far off. Neither was I.

 

“Elise… come for me… oh fuck I’m gonna…”

 

My mouth opened, my eyes slammed shut and I shoved my hips into yours as I released. I moaned loudly - the most vocal I’d been that night - and that was enough to get you off.

 

You let out a moan that was more like a scream, and I put my mouth over yours so you could let it out freely. And you did. Your voice was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard, and I deepened the kiss upon hearing it.

 

When you quieted down, I pulled away from the kiss, looked into your eyes again, smiled ever so slightly, and then finally let my head rest on your shoulder. We smelled like sex, skin, and our respective deodorants which had been fully activated by that point.

 

You let out a breathy laugh. “Fuck, Dan, that was amazing.”

 

“I bet you say that to all your secret internet lovers,” I joked, starting to prop myself up.

 

“I need water. Can you untie me?”

 

“Hmmmm…” I said, looking at you.

 

“Don’t even joke!” you laughed.

 

I smiled and reached above your head to untie the belt. Once free, you grabbed the bottle of water you kept on your nightstand and drank about half of it in one go.

 

“Jesus Christ, you weren’t kidding.”

 

“I haven’t had sex tire me out that much in years,” you said.

 

“Was I… was I really that good?”

 

“Why do you always doubt yourself? I mean, yeah your elbow was on my hair at one point, but that’s the closest it got to ‘bad’ and I’m into that kind of thing anyway, so.”

 

I laughed. “I don’t know whether to apologize or pretend like I totally did that on purpose!”

 

You handed the water to me and I found myself needing it almost as badly as you did. Once it was empty, I handed it back to you, you put it down, and we got comfortable in bed.

 

“I love you,” I said.

 

“I love you too, Dan.”

 

After a brief silence of us staring into each other’s eyes, you asked, “Is that the post-sex buzz talking, or are we being serious?”

 

“‘Why not both dot gif,’” I replied. You laughed and hit me with your pillow.

 

“You perpetual fucking meme lord,” you said.

 

“Admit it, you love it.”

 

You just smiled. “Yeah.”

 

***

 

I woke up the next morning with your hand flopped onto the side of my face. I couldn’t stop the laughter that burst out of my mouth, but I at least tried to keep it quiet.

 

I carefully moved your hand off my head and rolled over to face you. Your mouth was hanging open again. Your hair was a disaster and you were snoring ever so lightly. And I thought you were adorable.

 

When I noticed movement under your closed eyelids, I knew you were still deeply asleep and I could safely get out of bed without waking you. So I did.

 

I made absolutely no effort to be quiet as I hurried downstairs. I felt like a child on Christmas morning, excited to face a world full of pleasant surprises and people I loved.

 

“Good morning, Phil!” I sang. Phil was in his pyjamas, folding up the sofa bed, and while he was bent over I playfully poked his sides as I jogged by. He squeaked out a small, startled scream when I did.

 

“What are you in such a good mood for?” he asked, rubbing his sides and glaring at me. “And why were you upstairs?”

 

I poured myself a glass of juice in the kitchen. “The answer to both of your questions is the same, my friend,” I said as I turned toward Phil, beverage in hand. “Elise,” I said with a pause for dramatic effect, “is filing for divorce.”

 

Phil’s eyes widened, like those of a housecat excited to play with his first catnip toy. “She is? Really?”

 

I nodded with a grin.

 

“Oh thank god!” Phil exhaled. “I was so frustrated listening to her talk about how her relationship wasn’t everything she wanted, how she was just pining for you, I mean every time we talked it was just ‘I wish I could just leave Henry and be with Dan’ blah blah blah but now she’s finally made a decision and you’re not a complication anymore and you’ll be so great together! You should probably put that juice down.”

 

Slightly confused, I did as requested, and Phil flung his arms around me, trapping my arms at my sides and leaving me blinking.

 

“Dalise is canon now!” he squealed. “I’m so happy!”

 

“I uh… I can tell!” I laughed.

 

Phil pulled away. “I’m sorry I snapped last time you slept upstairs, you just have to understand that it was coming from a place of very deep frustration with the whole situation.”

 

“Phil, you weren’t being unreasonable. Sleeping with a married woman is, plainly put, not okay. You’ve always shied away from fighting unless it was something you believed in, and you believed I was doing something wrong so you rightfully called me out. I never held it against you. It was weird to see you that angry, sure, but Phil… even when you’re that mad you’re not exactly scary.”

 

“So do you forgive me then? You have to actually say you forgive me or it doesn’t count.”

 

“See? Look. Fighting for what you believe in. Of course I forgive you, Phil.”

 

“Is Elise still asleep?”

 

“Very much asleep. I think I wore her out.” I smirked and raised my eyebrows suggestively before taking the last sip of my juice.

 

“What did you do, talk her ear off all n-- oh. Wait,” Phil laughed. “Sorry! That took me a second.”

 

“Really, Phil? Honestly, you’re so innocent I wonder if you’re human.”

 

Phil shrugged. “We need breakfast. Let’s go to the IHOP around the corner! We could walk it. It’d be a long walk, but we could do it.”

 

“Phil, think about how exhausted I must be. Do you seriously think I can make that walk?”

 

“Please?”

 

“I wasn’t even willing to walk that distance for Pokemon, what makes you think I want to walk that distance now?”

 

“Pancakes are better than Pokemon.”

 

“You make an excellent point. Alright, alright, I’ll shower and put on clothes.”

 

“And leave Elise a note! She loves you, you know. You don’t want her to worry.”

 

“I will!”

 

***

 

“So where are you two going to live then?” Phil asked, stuffing his face with chocolate chip pancakes. _ I swear to God he’s a 12 year old in an adult’s body. _

 

“I don’t know. And honestly, that’s the part that I’m still having a hard time thinking through. We’re just going to have to talk about it. But I guess it depends on how the divorce goes. She should go through it pretending I’m not a factor, you know? That’s the safest course of action. I mean if she ends up staying in the house, she might want to stay here in Texas. But if she doesn’t get the house, which she might not cuz his divorce lawyer might point to her infidelity as a thing, then maybe she could move up to London and live with m-- uh… with  _ us _ , I guess?”

 

“That’s another thing. Would she be comfortable living with both of us, or should you guys get your own place?”

 

“Oh god, I didn’t even think of that. I don’t want to _not_ live with you! We’ll just have to get a bigger place so we can all live there. Or we could get a condo so you have your own flat and Elise and I will have ours and they’ll be linked together.”

 

“That’s a really good idea. That way you guys have your privacy but I’m always right there. ...You know that’s what they call a duplex here in America?”

 

“Really? What’s a two-storey apartment called then?”

 

“A loft apartment, I think. I’m still fuzzy on it.”

 

“Why can’t the world just standardize these terms? Living internationally is confusing.”

 

“Oh, that’s another thing to think about.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“If Elise ends up living with you, or with us, she’ll have to acclimate to life in a whole new country.”

 

“True.”

 

“What will her friends and family think about all this? Leaving her husband for a British Internet celebrity? So scandalous!”

 

“Phil, Jesus Christ, will you stop stressing me out?” I gave an exasperated laugh. I was definitely more stressed by all these considerations, but also amused by Phil’s worrying. He was like an excited mother who just learned her only daughter was getting married - meddling, but out of love, and you can’t help but find it charming. “Obviously she and I have a lot to talk about before we make any big decisions. Right now I just want to be happy that… that she loves me. And she wants… she wants  _ me _ .”

 

Phil smiled fondly. “You guys are so cute. I’m so happy she finally chose you. You both deserve so much happiness, and you’re going to be happy together.”

 

***

 

As we were walking home, I got a message from you.

 

**Elise Ludwig**

Will you be home soon? I need you

 

“Hang on, Phil. Elise sent me a message just now, lemme reply real fast.”

 

**Daniel Howell**

yeah on our way now. u ok?

 

“Dan?” Phil’s concerned voice threatened to break my focus on you.

 

“Sh.” I held up a finger.

 

**Elise Ludwig**

No

 

“Let’s hurry, Phil. Something’s wrong.”

 

We alternated between power-walking and jogging for the remainder of the walk back, and I unlocked the door and pushed inside to see you on the couch, breathing audibly.

 

“Oh my god, are you okay? What’s wrong?” I knelt by your side and looked at your tear-streaked face. I held one of your hands and rubbed my thumb across the back of it gently. When you didn’t immediately answer, I said, “Just breathe, doomslayer. I’m here. I’m here.” You breathed a few times, remaining silent until you were calm enough to finally explain what happened.

 

“He’s awake,” was all you said.

 

I stopped moving my hand. My stomach tightened again and I felt cold.  _ Why did this make you panic? _ I thought.  _ You were so ready for this last night. I can understand being nervous, but for this to make you panic makes no sense. Unless… Oh god. No. No no no, please no. _

 

“Phil, can you leave us for a few minutes?” I said without looking away from you.

 

“Yeah, I’ll um… I’ll go upstairs.”

 

Phil grabbed his laptop and headphones and headed to the upstairs hallway, a place he’d routinely retreat for alone time when you and I were occupying the downstairs.

 

“I uh… I told them I’d go visit him this afternoon,” you said once Phil was gone.

 

“So soon? Are you ready to do that?”

 

“Yeah… no… I d… I don’t know…”

 

“Are you starting to rethink… you know… us?” I almost didn’t want to know the answer.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” you said weakly.

 

I didn’t feel especially confident. “Please be honest with me,” I whispered. I felt tears sting my eyes, but I didn’t dare make them too obvious.

 

“I don’t know. I mean… now that I’m faced with talking to him… telling him that I want to leave… now that it’s right there, I’m… I’m just really scared.”

 

“You can do this, Elise. You can do this. Please. For me. For us. Please, Elise.” Maybe my tears weren’t visually noticeable yet, but I could hear my voice cracking as they pushed their way out into the open.

 

“I just need time, Dan.”

 

“I know, but if you’re going to see him today that doesn’t give us any time. God dammit, Elise, why today?”

 

“I just thought it would look suspicious if I didn’t come as soon as I could, you know?”

 

“Who cares!?” I cried out. “If you’re leaving him anyway, what does it matter if you’re not rushing by his bedside immediately? It would make it easier if he starts to realize your feelings for him are fading!” I lowered my voice a bit. “Unless they’re not.”

 

When you didn’t immediately respond, I looked at you in disbelief. Just an hour ago I’d been talking to Phil excitedly, albeit nervously, about us all living together in London, and now I was desperately trying to hold on to you.

 

I could understand you being concerned about Henry’s feelings to at least some degree, even then. You’re a people pleaser, for one thing, and for another you would have wanted to make this easy on a decent guy like Henry as best you could. But your wavering, your hesitation to acknowledge that you weren’t in love with Henry anymore, I could only see as a betrayal; I could feel nothing but jealousy and anger. I breathed, trying to keep my composure and not let my jealousy cloud my head. Maybe we just needed to figure this out. We could figure this out, right? Everything would be fine. Totally fine.

 

“I love you, Dan. I swear I do. I just… I don’t know what I want.”

 

“Elise, just think,” I said in a normal voice, but very tense. “I need you to just think.” I was scared of doing this, but I figured the best way to help you chart a course of action was for us to approach this the same way as waking up in the morning. One step at a time. “Are you happy with Henry?” I asked in a low, calm voice.

 

“Mostly.”

 

“What about being with him makes you unhappy?”

 

“He stresses me out sometimes. He gets grumpy. He’s harmless, but his bad moods get to me sometimes. I feel like he tries to understand me, and a lot of times he gets it on a surface level, but like… he doesn’t  _ really _ get it. You know? He doesn’t have my brain so he doesn’t really understand. Not like you do. Um… I feel like he looks down on me sometimes. A… a lot of times, actually. I once told you he didn’t make me feel like a child but…” You sniffled and wiped your eyes. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

 

“It’s okay, I’m fine, we’re worried about you right now. Keep going.”

 

”He doesn’t take good enough care of himself, and then whines about the results of that. And when he’s really sweet it sometimes seems fake… I don’t really have any evidence for that but it just rubs me the wrong way sometimes I guess.”

 

“Okay. Now, what about him makes you happy?”

 

“He takes care of me. He stops me from overexerting myself when I’m taking on too much… but then I guess you’ve actually done that more than him lately. He doesn’t keep score when doing anything kind for me, like... he doesn’t expect anything back. He knows me really well so he knows what I like and dislike, and he tries to do more of what I like and less of what I don’t.”

 

“Are the things that make you happy worth dealing with the things that make you unhappy?”

 

“I… I think so.”

 

“And do you think… do you think he’s the only person who could give you those things? Is he the only person who could make you happy those same ways?”

 

I made an effort to look into your eyes. I was absolutely petrified that you’d say yes. After a good deal of hesitation, you finally shook your head.

 

“Okay,” I nodded. “Okay good. What does that leave, then? What’s still making you nervous?”

 

“I just don’t want to hurt his feelings… and… I…. oh god this is so stupid.” You sniffled and looked up.

 

“What is it? You know I won’t judge you. It’s okay. You can tell me.”

 

“I’m worried that everyone I know will think I’m this horrible evil slut or something because I divorced Henry when he was at his weakest and immediately ran off with you.”

 

“You’re not being ridiculous at all, Leese. I promise. It’s a valid worry. Phil and I actually had the same concern.”

 

You nodded, not looking reassured at all.

 

“We’ll get through it, Elise. We will. I’ll defend you at every turn. I’ll make everyone you know absolutely adore me. They’ll wonder what you were doing with Henry for so long when I was out there waiting for you.”

 

You nodded again, blinking away some tears and looking down.

 

“Elise… what are you still doing with Henry when I’m waiting for you?” I wasn’t trying to hide that I was crying anymore. It was a losing battle.

 

You shook your head, looking like you were searching for the right words to say. You still hadn’t decided yet. You couldn’t decide. Not until you were looking Henry in the eye. And I fucking knew it, too.

 

I summoned all my courage. This felt like jumping off a fucking bridge with a discount bungee cord.

 

“Remember that first night,” I said carefully, “when I told you not to do anything yet? That you’d know if you wanted to stay with him or not once he woke up?”

 

You nodded. “Y.. yeah…”

 

“Go see him. And… if you look at him and don’t feel the love for him that you once did, if you remember the things that make you unhappy, then tell him you want a divorce. But if you look at him and you really do fall in love all over again, then… just send me a message. And Phil and I will pack up, leave your key under the mat, and take the first flight available back to London. You won’t see me again. And... I won’t be around to complicate your life anymore.”

 

***

 

I paced the living room nervously, biting at the skin next to my fingernails. Phil sat on the sofa, joining me in solidarity, playing with a panda hat from Daiso while we waited to hear from you. My phone sat, screen up, in the middle of the coffee table. My eyes darted to and from it repeatedly.

 

“Dan, I’m sure she’ll come to her senses and do the right thing. Please sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

 

I nodded and sat down. I bounced my heel rapidly for about five seconds before standing up again, too antsy to sit still.

 

“Dan, stop! You’re torturing yourself. It’ll be alright, just you watch.”

 

My phone beeped and a Facebook Messenger notification appeared on my lock screen. I froze in place.

 

“You look at it,” I said. “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

 

“Dan, you’re being silly.”

 

“Please, Phil!”

 

Phil reluctantly reached for my phone and unlocked it. His face fell. He looked up at me.

 

“Dan…”

 

I just looked at him, trying to keep my breathing steady. He had to be joking. He had to be faking me out.

 

Phil shook his head as though he could hear my thoughts. “I uh… I’m really sorry, Dan, she…”

 

He didn’t need to say anything else.

 

Images of you smiling the night before flashed in my mind. You laughing as you hit me with your pillow before we went to sleep. The way you looked lit only by the moon as we talked under the stars. Your face as you studied the menu when we got breakfast. Your singing in the car when you picked us up from the airport. How cute you looked on Christmas Eve. Your painting hanging in my room. Your face when you knew you’d interrupted me and Phil arguing at our flat in September. The way your eyes lit up when we’d talk on Skype last summer. And then, finally, I remembered the night we met, and how I fell for you so entirely so quickly.

 

My breath quickened and deepened until I let out an angry, anguished yell as I collapsed on the ground. It had been years since I cried that hard.

 

“Fuck!” I screamed. I wept, enormous tears dropping out of my eyes and onto the floor. I felt Phil’s arms around me, and I buried my face in his shirt. He hugged me tightly until my tears had all dried up and I could no longer feel anything.

 

I was on autopilot packing my things. 

 

We walked out the door and I knelt down to lift up the doormat. I put the silver key down, like I’d promised I would. I paused and gazed at the key for a moment before laying the mat down to cover it up, then I walked away.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 1:00 in the morning, I could not stop writing this chapter. My fingers just kept flying. I need sleep now but honestly it's going to be hard after that.
> 
> Dan collapsing yelling 'FUCK' is me right now ngl


	16. Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's therapist explains the reason why she assigned him this little writing project.  
> Also, Dan is faced with the idea of running into Elise at VidCon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy I have been updating this story rapid fire over the last few days. Sleep? What's that?
> 
> I added Chapter 15 about 24 hours ago so if you missed that chapter in the midst of these quick updates, go read that one first!

The next flight available to London didn’t leave until the next day, so Phil and I took an Uber to a hotel for the night. I lay awake, staring into space, trying to think of nothing as Phil slept a few feet away. Eventually, I rolled over and extended my arm over the emptiness on the other side of my bed. I held back tears. _Come on, mate. You don’t want to_ actually _“cry yourself to sleep.” How lame is that?_

 

I picked up my phone and read your message for the fortieth time.

 

“I’m so sorry, Dan. I’m not gonna pretend this isn’t the shittiest thing in the world to do to you. I was already afraid of telling him I wanted to leave, and then I saw him, and… I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him. God, I am so so sorry. There are no words for how sorry I am. I understand if you never want to speak to me again, but I hope you can forgive me. Thank you for everything.”

 

 **_Fuck you_ ** , I thought.

 

I sighed.

 

_I don’t really mean that._

**_Yes I do. She played with my heart and fucked me over._ **

_She didn’t play with my heart on purpose. She was worried about upsetting me too, not just him._

**_But she chose him. Obviously upsetting me was fine, but upsetting him was unacceptable!_ **

_She had to choose one of us. And choosing him means less drama, less judgment, less hassle... All other things being equal, that was the simpler path to take._

**_Oh come on. I’m fucking hopeless. This is the kind of thinking that Forever Alones are made of._ **

_Why can’t I just let her be happy?_

**_She’s not happy! She chose him out of guilt and fear, not because he would make her happy!_ **

_She chose the path that was best for her. That she would regret the least. It was up to her. I’ll move on. I’ll be fine._

**_“Fine.” I’m a fucking liar. When have I ever said “fine” and meant it?_ **

_I mean it now._

**_No I don’t. I won’t be fine. I won’t be able to help watching her videos, and it’ll stab at my heart. And I might see her at VidCon in a couple of months, and that’ll fucking hurt, and..._ **

_Oh my god, VidCon. Is she going to be there?_

 

Just to see, I looked on the VidCon website to find out if you were a featured guest. It didn’t look like it, which was understandable given how new you were. I was relieved for a moment, and then I was hopeful about seeing you. I hoped to find you. Then, I became optimistic. You certainly had the subscriber count at this point that you would have very long lines forming outside the convention center with people wanting to see you in impromptu meet & greets. Finding you would probably not be too hard. Maybe I could talk to you then. And maybe if you saw me, you’d remember how happy you were.

 

I opened the messenger chat window with you.

 

**Daniel Howell**

once me & phil are back in London the distance between me & you will be all huge again.  
and this time it won’t be just physical distance. :(  
but no matter how taut the thread is that connects us, it will never ever snap.  
ok?  
what I said that first night at your house is still true. i need you to know that.  
the tie between us will NEVER break.  
i will ALWAYS be here if you need me. always.  
if you ever need me, please just ask.  
i won’t say no. i’ll never say no.  
say the word and I’ll get on skype, hop on a plane, smuggle you food & medical supplies, I don’t care.  
whatever you need.  
sleep well. stay hydrated. take care of yourself.  
I love you.

 

I didn’t hesitate at all when typing that last “I love you.” It was the easiest thing in the world to say. As you were so keen to remind me, there are many different kinds of love. And it’s not that this “I love you” wasn’t romantic at all. It was, in part. But it was also an unconditional promise. It was just something that was true, nothing more or less than a plain and simple fact.

 

I loved you.

 

I loved you and I wanted you back.

 

There, how’s that?

 

***

 

Dan lowered the stack of pages so Dr. Malhotra could see his face. “Fifty thousand words of me whining like an Anne Rice novel. Are you happy?”

 

The therapist wasn’t affected by Dan’s standoffish attitude. “It doesn’t matter if I’m happy. What matters is that you learned from it.”

 

Dan shook his head, frustrated that he’d had to remember everything about his relationship with Elise over the last year. “Learned what? What was the point of this?”

 

Dr. Malhotra let her face soften and brighten in order to put Dan at ease. “I know the exercise seems frustrating. But see? You wrote a good deal more than I assigned. You were only supposed to write a letter to Elise, but you brought in a novel.”

 

“So?”

 

“So clearly it wasn’t a chore for you to do this. You _did_ want to learn about yourself; I couldn’t have forced you to do this if you didn’t want to really delve into the workings of your mind. Look at how many times you said ‘in retrospect,’ ‘it’s funny how dot-dot-dot,’ things like that. As you went back through this experience and recounted it, you were able to examine your feelings from the outside. You were able to look at how you felt, how you acted as a result, and how you interpreted the things that Elise said and did.”

 

“I don’t see how that helps me now.” Dan sighed, laying the stack of papers on the floor next to his feet. He leaned forward in the plush office chair and put his head in his hands. He rubbed his face and pushed his hair back as though trying to erase the stress he felt enveloping him. “Vidcon is in two weeks and I still have no idea what I’m going to say if I see her. I don’t know how I’m going to cope with seeing her at all, honestly.”

 

“I can’t make that decision for you, Daniel.”

 

“I know that.”

 

”But with your newfound perspective you can decide what to do. Do you forgive yourself? Do you forgive her?”

 

“Of course I forgive her.”

 

“Don’t be so quick to answer, Daniel. You are clearly holding on to some anger. It appears to me like you haven’t forgiven her despite knowing she has impulse control issues and problems with out-of-sight meaning out-of-mind. And you haven’t chosen to _try_ to forgive her in part because you still haven’t forgiven yourself for falling in love with a married woman.”

 

Dan leaned back in the chair and slouched down as though retreating and hiding.

 

“Why do I need to forgive her anyway? Why should I give her that?”

 

“Forgiveness isn’t for the person being forgiven. It’s for the person doing the forgiving.”

 

Dan scoffed and looked out the window.

 

“Forgiveness doesn’t mean you’re excusing what someone did, it doesn’t mean you’re erasing it. It means you’re letting yourself move on from it. It means that you can heal, and perhaps your friendship can heal in time.”

 

“I don’t want the friendship to heal,” Dan said, shuffling his foot on the floor and pouting at it. His voice reduced to a small, quiet one laden with a distant sadness. “I want her to be happy. Really truly happy. It doesn’t matter to me what that means, if I’m in the picture or not. But… I _think_ that would mean being with me.”

 

“Do you think you could make her happy?”

 

“I don’t think I could _make_ her anything. I can’t change her. But with me around and Henry away, she always seemed to shine so brightly. She always seemed more relaxed, more herself. Whenever Henry came up in conversation, or if he was in the room, it was like her posture got more tense or something. Like she was tied up in an invisible net. Maybe she did love Henry, but she put on a show for him like you do when you like a boy at school and want to impress him. Y’know. You’re not yourself.”

 

“You don’t think she’s herself with Henry?”

 

“No. And… on top of it all, I find myself worrying about her all the time now. It gets worse and worse every day. I drink a Ribena, I worry about Elise. I play Mario Kart, I worry about Elise. I film a video, I worry about Elise. But she’s still uploading videos, she’s doing charity work, she’s collaborating with her sister… she’s clearly fine. I just… I _hop_ e she’s happy, sure. I just don’t think she _is_.”

 

“What makes you think she’s unhappy?”

 

“She reminds me too much of myself. She always has. And… whenever I pretend to be someone I’m not - which is often, given my career - I’m miserable.”

 

“Do you worry that you’re still projecting onto her?”

 

“Of course I do. Second-guessing myself is my specialty, after all. I wish I knew when I could be confident that I’m right and when to be cautious about projection.”

 

“In my professional opinion, you _do_ have someone around to help you figure out when you’re making unreasonable assumptions and when you’re being more objective than you realize.”

 

“What?”

 

Dr. Malhotra looked Dan in the eye, letting him think about it and figure it out on his own.

 

“Oh god, Phil! Of course!”

 

“There you go.”

 

***

 

“Phil?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you think Elise is happy right now?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Dan nodded.

 

“You’re not just saying that because you liked the idea of us together, right?”

 

“Not in the slightest. She seems depressed as hell.” Phil paused his game and stood up. “Want a Ribena?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The atmosphere in the Howell-Lester flat had become oddly sullen since they returned home. Dan and Phil had made every earnest attempt to restore normality to their lives after Elise went back to her husband, but Dan’s mood pervaded all they did together, and it was starting to get to Phil.

 

“You know, it’s funny, Elise being so similar to you.”

 

“How’s that?”

 

“Well, look at our friendship. You and me. Our traits are mostly complementary, you know? You’re the dark, I’m the light; you’re the intellectualism and philosophy, I’m the creativity and free-spiritedness; you’re the outline, I’m the color. It’s why nothing romantic between us ever could have panned out, when you think about it.”

 

“We just lost interest in that, though,” Dan shrugged as Phil sat down beside him and handed him his drink.

 

“Yes, but why did we? Clearly we’re comfortable around each other, we trust each other. But aside from the fact that we were each other’s best friend by far, our mere existence didn’t make the other person feel less alone.”

 

“How do you mean?” Dan was a bit confused, since Phil being his best - or really, only - friend as he was entering the world of adulthood had indeed made him feel less alone.

 

“Well, imagine if you were a cat and I were a dog.”

 

“So... reality. Got it.” Dan joked.

 

“Dan, stop talking. If you’d never met another cat before, and you and I were best friends as a cat and a dog, you’d certainly feel like you’d found a great companion but you wouldn’t feel like you’d found another of your kind.”

 

Dan lifted his head a bit, finally comprehending what Phil meant.

 

“Elise is another cat. And there are only two of you in the world.”

 

Dan looked at the floor, blinking, taking in what Phil was saying.

 

“And that’s why she’s depressed. She’s depressed for the same reason you are. You two need each other. You’re too much alike in all the right ways. She may be different sort of cat than you, but you shouldn’t be separated from each other. It’s not natural.”

 

Dan didn’t disagree, really. He’d watch Elise’s videos whenever she updated. So far, since Dan and Phil left her house, she had uploaded three new videos on her main channel and numerous short vlogs on her side channel. Many of her short vlogs were indeed video blog posts, and she used them to work through her feelings. Some of them dealt with the guilt she felt regarding Dan, but to him they were vague and dubious, and he didn’t want to assume they were thickly veiled apologies to him.

 

 _Phil keeps calling you out for being a narcissist_ , he’d think. _Don’t assume it’s always all about you._

 

***

 

“Elise?” Henry wheeled into the living room, where she was cleaning up.

 

“Yeah, what’s up?”

 

“I wanted to talk to you. You uh… you might want to sit down for this.”

 

Elise was immediately concerned and did indeed take a seat on the sofa.

 

“So… I’ve been watching your vlogs.”

 

Elise’s face went white. She’d kept the specifics of her feelings mostly hidden by being as vague and abstract as possible. But if Henry was mentioning them to her, then he no doubt figured them out.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m going to venture a guess that… you’re unhappy.”

 

Elise cleared her throat as her eyes began to well up. “Do we have to do this now?”

 

“I’ve been psyching myself up for this for like a week, actually.”

 

Henry looked at his wife, wishing he could make those tears go away without having this conversation with her. But the truth was, he had grown terribly depressed since getting out of the hospital because he could see that she was miserable. He acknowledged that perhaps he hadn’t always been the best husband, that he probably hadn’t thought of her as enough of an equal. But he figured it out too late. The damage there was done, and there was no undoing it.

 

“I’ve been getting the feeling like… you’ve been unhappy for a long time.”

 

Elise nodded reluctantly.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

 

“I was going to. And then you had your accident and I felt like shit for wanting to leave when you really needed someone to help you just do life stuff. I know that feeling, you know? That feeling of being helpless and needing to be able to rely on someone. I didn’t want to abandon you.”

 

“Elise, you don’t need to stay with me just because you feel guilty. In fact, I don’t _want_ you to stay if you don’t want to. I wish you’d talked to me about the things that bothered you so I could have fixed them, but… that ship’s sailed, hun. If you’re unhappy, you’re unhappy. You’re always harping on me about not taking care of myself enough. You should be taking care of yourself too.”

 

“If I leave… are you gonna be alright?”

 

“My parents live a 5 hour drive away. I’ve already talked to them about moving back home.”

 

“You have?”

 

Henry nodded. “I want you to be happy, Elise. And that means I need to set you free.”

 

He placed a stack of papers on the coffee table, slowly pushing them toward her so she could see them.

 

Divorce papers.

 

Elise burst into tears.

 

“Are you o--” Henry’s question was interrupted but a sudden tight hug from his soon to be ex-wife.

 

“Thank you,” she sobbed.

 

***

 

Dan sat in his usual spot on the sofa scrolling through Tumblr. Speculation about Dan and Elise had continued even now, ages after he and Phil had left Texas and they’d stopped talking to Elise directly. Normally the Phandom needed more fuel for a fire like this one to burn for so long, but Dan had underestimated the internal battle that would spark up between Phan shippers and Dalise shippers. Debates and speculation alone had kept the topic as fresh as ever.

 

He found fan art of him and Elise together. Some of it was really cute. Some of it was disturbingly graphic. A few pieces were legitimately beautiful. He saved a few of them, smiled to himself, and then sighed sadly and closed his Macbook.

 

He was leaving for VidCon 2018 the next day and had no idea what to do.

 

“Phil?” he called.

 

Phil walked out to the lounge. “Hm?”

 

“What would you do if you were me?”

 

"Are you on about Elise again?"

 

"Yeah..."

 

“Come on, Dan. You know what I’d do. She’s… she’s still married. You’ve got to leave it alone.”

 

“I guess,” Dan sighed.

 

“Look…” Phil conceded, “maybe it’s not the worst idea to make sure she knows that you’re still there. She never did contact you again after we got back home, and maybe she just needs reassurance that you don’t altogether hate her.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“She might also need reassurance that you’re still interested in her. So if her marriage does fail… if she really does leave him eventually… You know.”

 

“I don’t really want to get my hopes up for that, Phil. Besides, I’d hate to think Henry was getting his heart destroyed for my benefit.”

 

“Well… you never know how things will pan out.”

 

“How do I even talk to her though? What do I say if I see her?”

 

“Just ask her how she’s been. Be polite, be kind, start with pleasantries and see where it goes.”

 

“That’ll dead end quick. I mean I never really figured out how you segue into proper conversation from ‘wow, it sure is sunny out! Are your allergies bothering you today too?’”

 

“Dan.”

 

“Sorry. I’m just… having a hard time picturing a scenario in which this all works out.”

 

Phil shrugged. “Maybe you’ll just know what to say when the moment comes. Maybe all you need is to see each other again.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Phil patted Dan’s knee and stood up to walk out. Dan opened his laptop again and went to Elise’s main channel. Nothing new. He went to her side channel. A new video had gone up since he’d last checked three hours prior.

 

She looked so happy, so calm. Like she was satisfied with life. Dan smiled briefly for her, then frowned for himself. She sounded optimistic, excited, and said very clearly that she was in love. She was nervous about how things would turn out, but she was hoping for the best. Tears welled up in Dan’s eyes.

 

And that’s when he saw it. She gesticulated a bit while talking and he saw her hand.

 

Her left hand.

 

And a ring finger with nothing decorating it.

 

“Phil! Oh my god, Phil!”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if the point-of-view change was awkward, but this framing device was actually intended from the start! It had to come into play earlier than I originally planned (I meant for it to be revealed in the last chapter originally), however, because of what happens with Elise.
> 
> Anyway! Only one more chapter after this to tie everything up, which... will be INSANELY romantic, you guys. The chapter, as it plays out in my head, is bringing me to absolute tears.
> 
> I have learned so much when writing this, and I'm so in love with this world and these characters that I MIGHT spend November rewriting & editing this for NaNoWriMo, not sure. I don't want to leave this story yet! Let me know your thoughts in the comments.


	17. Let's Wrap This Sucker Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan finally talks to Elise again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP THIS IS IT. Last chapter. Couldn't think of a title for it. Feel free to suggest one.
> 
> I love you guys, you know that? Bring it in. Group hug.
> 
> Okay, time to read!

Dan paced the room. “I mean, why else would she take the ring off? She had that ring on the entire time we were in Texas. She _ slept with me _ with that damn ring on. She wouldn’t take it off for no reason.”

 

“Maybe not, or maybe she’d take it off to clean the toilet or something to make sure she didn’t lose it.”

 

“She did a decent amount of cleaning without taking the ring off before.”

 

“True. Maybe she really did get divorced? Her display name is still the same though…”

 

“Maybe she didn’t change her name to begin with. Maybe Ludwig is her maiden name. Did we ever ask if Henry’s last name was Ludwig?”

 

“I don’t think so…”

 

“Are you still talking to Elise? I mean, could you just ask her?”

 

“We never expressly decided we weren’t speaking, but I haven’t really felt like talking to her since… y’know. All that.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Would feel weird to suddenly ask if she’s divorced now.”

 

“Yeah probably. Okay, so, next question, assuming she  _ is _ indeed divorced, why would she not have told me yet?”

 

“That is a good question. She adores you - if I were her I’d be jumping at the opportunity to apologize and try to make things right with you.”

 

“She probably hates me now.” Dan flopped back down on the sofa. “Maybe she just grew out of me or something.”

 

Phil hated seeing his friend like this. It had been so long since he last gave up on himself so easily. “Well, let’s not be hasty… Here, let’s watch some of her vlogs and see if we can’t piece it together.”

 

Dan shrugged and exhaled, gathering up as much optimism as he could. “Okay.”

 

The pair sat close, looking at the screen of Dan’s laptop, as they navigated to her channel.

 

Elise Carter, it now said.

 

They looked at each other briefly.

 

“Guess that settles that,” Dan said.

 

Phil nodded.

 

They then began watching every one of her vlogs from the last few weeks. The wording was overly flowery and poetic as a way of avoiding straightforwardness. She clearly hoped that her husband and their mutual friends wouldn’t figure out what she was feeling, and indeed Dan had previously figured these videos weren’t about him. But now that he knew they were, the messages were as clear as day.

 

She’d spent this whole time unhappy and regretful despite choosing the path she thought she wouldn’t regret. She wanted to be with Dan, and felt very certain of that, but was second-guessing those feelings because she knew her ADHD made her more emotionally-driven. Rather than doing what was right for herself, therefore, she tried to do what she thought was right for Henry. 

 

In her second to last video, titled “Hello Internet, is anyone out there?” she said this. 

 

“If you can hear me, I hope you answer me. But I don’t expect that you’re hearing me. I don’t expect you to want to answer me. I expect to be ignored. And I know I’m probably wrong. If I think about it logically, I know I’m wrong. I know I only  _ feel _ like you’re too big, too distant - I feel like even if you  _ could _ hear the voice of an ant on the sidewalk, you would be too busy to pay it any mind. 

 

“But the thing is, I know that you could comprehend what you were hearing. I know you’re not that distant. I know that I’m not an ant compared to you - you showed me that I’m not. And on some level I know you’re not the planet Jupiter. We always looked at each other eye to eye. The only reason we were seeing each other as bigger than we really were was because we were so close. I saw you close up, and that made you so grand that you took up my entire field of vision. 

 

“Have you ever wanted to say hello, but stopped yourself because you knew you’d be ignored? Have you ever wanted to say you’re sorry, but stopped yourself because you knew you wouldn’t be forgiven? Have you ever wanted to say you understand, but stopped yourself because you knew they wouldn’t see that you’re crying as much as they are? Because... hello. I’m sorry. And I’m crying just as much as you are.”

 

Dan paused the video. “That’s it, Phil. Right there. She’s scared to tell me. She’s afraid I won’t answer. That’s all.”

 

“She is definitely more afraid of heartbreak than most people. I mean everyone is afraid of heartbreak, but her, she… she’s definitely got some very serious anxiety about it.”

 

Dan nodded. Then, being unable to resist, he scrolled down to the comments. There were a lot of theories on this one. It had been uploaded a week prior, but comments made only in the last day or two like “Does this have anything to do with your ring being gone in your most recent video?” and “IS THIS ABOUT DAN HOWELL????” were plentiful, though sprinkled with comments like “i think this is about having a crush on any famous person, it’s not necessarily about Dan” and “This video sums up how I feel about God so well <3”.  _ People really do see what they want to see _ , Dan thought.

 

Phil saw the doubt in Dan’s eyes and talked some sense into him. “Don’t worry, Dan. This video is definitely about you. I mean look at that title! It  _ has _ to be a reference to you.” Phil had much more conviction in his voice now than when they were waiting for Elise to contact them in the living room on their last day in Texas.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Dan thought back.  _ That reference to Jupiter, _ he thought.  _ Maybe this is about me. Or maybe she just took inspiration from that conversation... _

 

“Dan? You’re lost in your own head again.”

 

“Sorry.” Dan reengaged with reality and looked at Phil. “Hey, has she talked about her life on Facebook recently? Maybe she’s talked about this.” 

 

Phil looked a bit confused. “Would you not know if she did?”

 

“Well… no. She blocked me on Facebook. Has she blocked you?”

 

“I don’t think so but I haven’t thought to log on in awhile.” Phil got out his phone to check. “No, I can still see everything. And yeah, her name says Carter here too!”

 

Phil scrolled for a moment, looking through her most recent posts.

 

“Oh my god Dan, listen to this…”

 

Elise had posted a lengthy text post hours earlier.

 

“I’m posting here to update you all on recent developments in my life.

 

“Awhile back, Henry filed for divorce. The decision was more or less mutual. Our relationship had been lacking in some basic fundamental necessities since the beginning - namely seeing each other as equals. I was unhappy with feeling somehow ‘lesser,’ but because Henry has always been so kind and genuinely caring towards me, I convinced myself it was my imagination and I just needed to push through it.

 

“It’s often hard to admit that someone being so kind to you is killing your sense of self-efficacy and making you more depressed, but that’s exactly what was happening.

 

“When I was diagnosed with ADHD, however, the fact that I’d been unhealthily dependent on Henry became far more clear, and I began to see my misgivings about our marriage as completely valid for the first time. As I became more independent and more able to take care of things myself, Henry started to become more quiet and distant. A recent conversation with him revealed that this wasn’t my imagination - he was starting to feel less necessary, and it was killing his self-esteem.

 

“After Henry’s accident, the balance of power in our marriage did a complete 180, and it caused a huge upheaval for both of us. We both felt off-kilter and insecure and it made us both gradually more and more depressed. Henry worked up the courage to address this, acknowledging that the relationship was irreparably broken and handing me divorce papers to sign.

 

“A word to the wise, kids: Love on its own isn’t enough. Working to keep a marriage alive isn’t enough. You have to see each other as equal partners. Nobody can be dependent on anyone else.

 

“Anyway, he’ll be moving in with his family in Tulsa where he’ll be taken care of. I feel like I should apologize to his family there for leaving his needs to you - you’re all amazing people, I will miss being a part of your family, and I’m so sorry you now have to take on these extra responsibilities. 

 

“While I’m at VidCon, he’ll be packing everything up and moving out.

 

“A few of you have asked if I’ll be staying in the area. The truth is, I can’t afford to stay in the house by myself, so I’ll be moving too… but where or when, I don’t know yet. I may just get an apartment in the same area, I may downgrade to a smaller house and rent that, or I may turn this into an adventure and move to Tokyo or New York or something. Who knows? But I’ll keep you all posted so you know what I decide to do.

 

“This VidCon has the potential to be another factor in this major shift in my life, depending on who I see there and who I have the chance to talk to. I’m scared out of my mind but I’m also very optimistic that maybe, just maybe, I’ll have the life I want pretty soon.”

 

Phil rushed out his interpretation of the last paragraph as soon as he was done reading it. “Do you think she’s talking about you there?”

 

“I… don’t know.” Dan definitely thought the end of her post seemed like a nod to him, but he didn’t dare let himself be too optimistic.

 

***

 

Dan stood outside the ballroom doors and simply stared past them as though he could possibly see if Elise was there if he just stayed there long enough.

 

“Come on, Dan. You’ve got this.”

 

“I can’t do this. I’m so scared, Phil.”

 

“No matter what happens, I’m in there too - if she hurts you, come find me. And I’ll kick her butt for you.”

 

Dan laughed.

 

“Look at that! I made you laugh. You’ll be fine.”

 

“Why can’t you stand with me when I talk to her?” Dan whined, stalling since he already knew the answer.

 

“Could you really be honest with her if I did?”

 

“I guess not,” Dan acknowledged. He sighed, lifted up his foot to step forward, and then he heard a voice that sounded like home to him.

 

“Hi guys.” 

 

Dan and Phil turned around to see Elise, looking casual enough to enjoy dancing and drinking, but also dressed up enough to reconcile with an ex.

 

Dan noticed her hair had gotten a bit longer. She was looking directly at him, smiling as sweetly as she was able to. Her posture, however, was that of a scared and apologetic person - shoulders rolled forward, one arm down with the other crossing her stomach to hold it.

 

Phil smiled. “I’m gonna head inside. Dan, I’ll see you whenever you come in.”

 

Dan nodded to Phil, who then headed into the ballroom, leaving Elise and Dan outside the party. Where they belonged.

 

“You look beautiful, Ms. Carter,” Dan said.

 

Elise smiled. “Been keeping up with the news, have you?”

 

Dan nodded.

 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about it.”

 

“It’s okay, I mean… you were gonna see me here anyway.”

 

“Yeah, that’s true. Plus there’s been so much to work out, you know… life… stuff.”

 

“Yeah…” Dan’s neck tensed as he fought every urge to nod, or to look away, or to lean in and kiss Elise, or to look around the hallway for anything else to focus on or talk about. He wanted to focus on her.

 

Elise, meanwhile, was trying to prevent feeling like this was a dramatic, pivotal moment in both her life and her relationship with Dan. But her eyes stung as though punishing her for not addressing the real offense she’d committed.

 

“God, Dan I am so sorry for everything,” she said, exhaling the words as though she’d been about to burst just before. “Letting you go was the stupidest thing I may have ever done.”

 

Dan looked at her, his sorrowful eyebrows furrowed, placing a hand on her cheek.

 

“Don’t say that. You did what you thought was best for everyone.”

 

“That’s the thing, I don’t think I did,” she continued. “It  _ was _ dishonest to stay with him. All I did was prolong the unhappiness that he and I were both feeling, and I was willing to hurt you in order to do that. How is that okay?”

 

Dan’s eyes darted between each of Elise’s, and the sadness in his face was amplified. “What… What happened that day?” Dan asked, lowering his hand.

 

“I dunno, I just… I saw him in the hospital and he smiled and... you just sort of disappeared. Well, you didn’t, obviously, I had the presence of mind to send you a message, but... every good memory of how I felt when I was with you disappeared. It was like... I could remember the happiest times with Henry, but I forgot all the stressful things about being with him. And I forgot that… that there  _ were _ no stressful or sad times with you. Even when we disagreed. I’ve never felt unsure of myself with you, you’ve always only made me happy and certain and confident and… I should never have just turned my back on you like that.” Elise lowered her head in shame, tears suddenly spilling out. “It was so stupid. Dan, I was so stupid!”

 

Without looking up, she stepped forward once to close the gap between the two of them and wrapped her arms around him. He returned the embrace and kissed her head as she silent sobs shook her body and grabbed desperately at the fabric covering his back. He subtly shook his head.  _ No _ , he thought.  _ This isn’t going to be another almost-kiss like last September outside my flat. Not this time _ .

 

He separated from the hug, but not from Elise. He placed his fingers under her chin, lifted her face up, and smiled fondly.

 

“Shh.” He paused while she calmed down. “Hello,” he said quietly. “I forgive you. And I’ve been crying just as much as you’ve been.”

 

Elise closed her eyes and smiled upon realizing that he was responding directly to her video. The one she made for him. The one she expected he’d ignore. Her smile looked lost among all the tears, so Dan kissed it softly to help it find its way through.

 

As Elise’s last tear of the evening rolled down her cheek, her body filled with warmth from the ground up - her legs, then her stomach, then her heart, then her mind. Electricity went from her lips, through her spine, down to her hands. She deepened the kiss, one hand on Dan’s side and the other combing through his hair.

 

After the kiss ended, they stood in silence for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Dan wiped the tears from Elise’s cheeks and they both laughed small, intimate laughs at how ridiculous they almost certainly looked to the VidCon security staff checking people’s badges outside the ballroom doors. They looked around to find somewhere to sit. There were a couple of chairs alongside the wall behind Dan, so he tilted his head in that general direction to silently ask Elise to sit with him there. She nodded, and they walked without speaking in that direction.

 

“Um… you look really nice too,” Elise said after a moment. “You said I looked beautiful earlier and I didn’t return it so… yeah.”

 

Dan smiled and shook his head at her awkwardness. “I have missed you,” he said, nearly a whisper.

 

“I’ve missed you too.”

 

“You realize it’s been a year since we met? As of this exact party.”

 

“Oh wow. Yeah.”

 

“Hell of a year,” Dan said, suddenly laughing.

 

Elise returned the laughter. “That’s an understatement!”

 

Dan looked thoughtful. “I remember… after that party, when I talked to you on Facebook, you were drinking again. ‘Lots of problems,’ I think you said.”

 

“Wow, you remember that?” Elise sighed, looking up in the air between herself and the ceiling, as though that were where memories lived. “Yeah, I uh… I’d just met someone who made me consider divorce again.” She looked at Dan and smiled. “He was really enjoyable to talk to, you know. The way he and I enjoyed each other’s company was… I mean, my husband and I hadn’t talked to each other like that in years at that point.”

 

“So this person you met,” Dan said with a smirk, “is he devilishly handsome?”

 

Elise laughed. “I’d say yes but I don’t want to give him a big head. He’s already tall enough.”

 

“Actually shut up,” Dan laughed. “Okay then, is he witty?”

 

“Quite.”

 

“Creative? Brilliant? Amazing in the sack?”

 

“The answers to those are ‘Yes,’ ‘on his good days,’ and ‘he’s acceptable,’ in that order.”

 

“Leese! You are the actual worst.”

 

“Just doing my part to keep a famous YouTuber grounded.”

 

“Okay, how about this one. Do you love him?”

 

“Yes,” Elise said frankly.

 

“Does he love you?”

 

“I hope so,” Elise said with a delicate smile.

 

Dan leaned in and cupped his hand on the side of his mouth to amplify his whisper of “The answer is yes.”

 

Elise laughed. “Yes!” she said brightly, changing her answer.

 

“So let’s just cut the bullshit then, shall we?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It’s official. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend now. Me and you.”

 

Elise laughed. “Well damn, consider the bullshit cut!”

 

“It just drives me crazy when people dance around it like they’re building up to something as major as an actual marriage proposal. They put so much weight on this official declaration of status as though that’s more important than the fact that two people love each other.”

 

“Well it kind of makes sense to want to know the status. There’s a lot that usually comes with being ‘official,’ like exclusivity and stuff.”

 

“I mean, I guess, but for one thing there are open relationships so you really can’t assume anything from the labels. And for another thing, why treat it like there’s actual paperwork involved? Just say ‘I love you and I don’t plan on dating, kissing, or fucking anyone else’ and be done with it.”

 

“Well, that’s easy enough. Dan, I love you, and I don’t plan on dating, kissing, or fucking anyone else.”

 

“Good to hear. I similarly love you, and don’t plan on dating, kissing, or fucking anyone else either.”

 

They smiled at each other, the light reflecting off one another’s eyes and brightening up the space to a far greater degree than the dim corridor lights would allow on their own.

 

“So um… how… how are we gonna do this?” Elise asked, suddenly worried. “Just keep Skyping forever?”

 

“Actually… and I apologize if this is a bit forward. Phil saw in your Facebook post that you won’t be able to afford to stay in your house forever.”

 

Elise gave Dan a bit of a side-eye. “Yeah…?”

 

“Ever given any thought to moving to London?”

 

Elise burst into laughter. “Dan, I can’t just pack up and move to London! That’s ridiculous.”

 

“Well no, not  _ just _ pack up and move, obviously. There’s a shit ton of paperwork to do. A resident Visa to apply for, fees to pay, forms to fill out, tickets to buy...”

 

Elise shook her head in disbelief. “Yeah, and needing to learn how a whole other country works, figuring out what to do with some of my furniture, stuff like finding a new psychiatrist out there…”

 

“Learning a whole other language - oh wait, nevermind.” Dan tilted his head and made a sassy face at Elise.

 

“Don’t be a smartass, Daniel,” Elise said playfully.

 

“Oi, I have a point, you know. That puts you way ahead, because you can ask for help. Plus you know if you need anything you’ll have a boyfriend and a shiny new best friend to help you out.”

 

Elise paused to smile at the Dan’s clear shoehorning in of the word “boyfriend.” “I just don’t know. It’s awfully sudden.”

 

“Yeah, and I am sorry about that. It’s just that Phil and I are in the process of looking for a forever home. We’ve already been in our current flat longer than we planned to be. So… should we or should we not look for a place that’s big enough for all three of us?”

 

Elise’s eyebrows shot up and she took a deep breath in as she absorbed the reality of the situation. She was going to need a place, and they were willing to give her one. So she’d have a need taken care of. And she was hopelessly, disgustingly in love with Dan. So she’d have wants taken care of too.

 

And he wasn’t some throwaway romance. He wasn’t a fling or a whirlwind or a crush or a goal or an idea. She’d gone her whole life feeling like she didn’t belong in this world, like she was too much of a misfit to even be classified as a misfit. And yet, here was Dan, making her feel like she had a place. Dan was more than just a symbol of Elise’s belonging, too - he enjoyed her, and she enjoyed him. They could talk to each other about anything no matter how dramatic or random or dark. Plus, their bodies fit together as well as their minds did.

 

So then why was she hesitating? Why was this so hard to say yes to?

 

Her family. Her friends. Their judgment.

 

If Elise had to determine her ideal version of herself, it was someone who wasn’t insecure. Elise’s dream was to one day make decisions based on what would make her happiest for the longest amount of time, not based on what everyone else was saying should make her happy. Admittedly, sometimes they were right. But when she said “yes” to things, usually impulsively, she never regretted it.

 

She started painting because she wanted to, and it may not have been a permanent thing for her, but when she stopped she was still glad she did it at all. That art still appeared in some of her videos, it made for good home decor, and obviously her first piece was one of the most meaningful gifts she’d ever given anyone. 

 

She was making music now because it made her happy, and if she ever stopped she knew she’d be glad she did it at all. Music was a challenge for her, and every time she tried to replicate a beat or try a new sound she learned something new or discovered something interesting.

 

She started YouTube because she thought expressing herself on video might make her happy, and she knew if she ever stopped she’d still be glad she did it at all. Especially since being a YouTuber meant that she was at VidCon again this year, this time for herself and not her sister, and she was talking to Dan.

 

And marrying Henry was what had made her happy years ago. It was what she needed at the time. And now that it hadn’t worked out, she was glad she’d ever been married to him. She’d spent those years learning more about herself; what she wanted, what she needed, what she couldn’t handle, and what she was capable of.

 

These experiences she’d had and decisions she’d made may not have always worked out. They cost money, they took time, and they sometimes resulted in heartbreak, but in the end she’d grown. She’d learned. She hadn’t done anything to massively inconvenience anyone -- and although she did still feel bad about Henry’s family in Tulsa needing to take on more responsibility, and she knew they were likely upset with her at the moment, she could logically acknowledge that it wasn’t her doing. And she hadn’t physically hurt or killed anyone, herself included.

 

Maybe it was time for her to stop dismissing ideas as ridiculous. Maybe it was time for her to say yes to something scary for once. Because even if it didn’t work out, she knew she’d be a better person when it was over.

 

At the very least, maybe she’d learn a lot about British immigration, right?

 

“Elise?” Dan said, concerned. “Shit, I’m sorry, I jumped ahead, you probably do need more time to think about it.” He started rambling nervously. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. I mean I know you do have a bit of a time limit but this is really undue pressure I’m putting on you here. That was unfair of me. Mostly I was just being dramatic or romantic or something stupid like that and it’s a horrible thing to do to y--”

 

Elise snapped out of her own headspace and looked Dan in the eye. “Fuck it. Yes.”

 

“Wait, y-- Yes what?”

 

“Yes, you should look for a big enough place for all three of us and I’m scared shitless of what I just said to you so you should hug me dramatically and say you love me before I change my mind.”

 

Dan took her at her word and jumped to his feet, pulling her up by the hand and drawing her in for the greatest hug he’d ever given anyone.

 

“I love you so much, Elise.”

 

Elise smiled calmly.

 

“I love you too,” she said, pausing to breathe before adding, with a hearty laugh, “Oh Christ, my mother is going to kill me!”

 

***

 

Dan and Elise danced and drank and laughed for the next couple of hours, sometimes with Phil and sometimes without. They and other YouTubers in attendance got plenty of pictures, and Dan’s Instagram story was unapologetically full of photos that fueled Dalise shipper speculation for the next several days.

 

The Phandom basically imploded when Phil posted a photo of Elise in Dan’s arms on a chaise lounge on the back porch of their new home, both wearing warm wool sweaters in the cool of late autumn, and both of their eyes focused on something in the distance.

 

“They’ll lie and say otherwise, but they’re watching pigeons fight,” Phil’s caption read.

 

The comments could have cared less about the pigeons. They were far more concerned with how much Dan and Elise looked like a married couple.

 

Phan was definitely dead. Although, of course, Elise knew the truth - Phan had been an almost-thing once, and without the insight Dan gained from that experience, she and Dan might never have acknowledged their feelings for one another.

 

And of course, there were those in the Phandom who concluded that the trio must  _ all _ be in a relationship together, which made Dan and Elise laugh and Phil run from the room plugging his ears yelling “la la la!” whenever it came up in conversation.

 

***

 

The three of them made frequent appearances in each other’s videos. Eventually, YouTube was Elise’s full time job and she was able to give up making web sites. This was a welcome relief for her, as she was having a profoundly difficult time navigating an entirely new market. She kept her YouTube brand separate from the boys’ brand though, citing a feeling that it would “mess up your whole thing.”

 

Elise released an EP at the end of 2018, having gotten to a point where she found 5 songs worthy of polishing properly and releasing for the world to enjoy. Dan suggested that she use some of her cryptic vlogs as a basis for lyrics, and he helped her give them better rhythm and flow. He also had some excellent input regarding word choice, helping Elise to be more vague when she wanted to leave things open for interpretation and more specific when she wanted to be clearer. Elise’s strength was in determining overall approach - she knew when to sound very formal and flowery and when to sound very casual; she knew when to use poetic devices like repetition and alliteration; she was great at coming up with microcosmic examples that could serve as allegories for entire situations. Phil helped at times too - his abstract ways of thinking meant he could help her come up with metaphorical representations of feelings.

 

And Dan loved her music. It was just weird enough, having so many genres and styles influencing it. He found it refreshing to hear honest singer-songwriter pop that wasn’t of the “girl with a guitar” variety, so he was somewhat relieved when she considered learning to play ukulele and in the end decided not to. She learned to play electric guitar on a basic level in order to make samples and loops, and Dan was glad she stopped there.

 

***

 

“We probably should.”

 

“But why?”

 

“Well for one thing, let’s face it, it will be much easier for you to stay in the country if we do. Plus, if something happens to you and you’re in hospital, I want to be able to see you and know everything that’s going on. There are a lot of benefits to making you legally ‘family.’”

 

Elise sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

 

“People fight for marriage equality for a reason, you know. It’s not just the romantic aspect of things.”

 

“You’re not wrong. It’s just…” Elise stopped herself and shook her head. “Jeez, listen to me. Scared of doing something. Again.”

 

“Yes, but you’re not scared of doing something new this time. This is something you experienced that didn’t work out for you. If you’re scared of it not working out again, that’s okay. Your anxiety here is completely understandable.” Dan sat on the floor in front of her and held her nervously fidgeting hands in his. “But I really do think it’s worth taking this chance. I really want us to get married.”

 

“You’re not proposing right now, are you? Because your position is all wrong.”

 

Dan laughed. “Do you want me to be? I’m not really prepared right this second.”

 

“Well I mean, that’s kind of what this conversation is, isn’t it? Deciding whether we’re gonna get married or not. It may not be a formal proposal, but if I answer in the affirmative here, we’re gonna start planning it, let’s face it.”

 

“Yeah, probably,” Dan said with a smile.

 

“I’ll be honest though,” Elise sighed, “Part of it is just that… Getting married cost me and Henry so much money, it was a big huge stressful thing, and after all my family’s talk about it being so special, so important, so worthy of congratulations, it’s like… anticlimactic to do it again.”

 

“So we’ll keep it simple. What’s the very first thing I learned about you? I mean the very first thing.”

 

“Uuuhh… that I hate coconut?”

 

Dan laughed. “No. I learned that you hate parties as much as I do.”

 

“Holy crap, Dan, how do you remember this stuff?”

 

“I actually have really shit memory, but sometimes things stick in my head. I don’t know. But anyway, we won’t do anything over the top, just something nice and small so we don’t lose our minds planning everything.”

 

“My family will want to fly in from the States, Dan.”

 

“All the more reason to keep everything else as simple as possible! There are automatically stressful things to worry about, why add to it?”

 

Elise sighed. “I’m not saying I don’t wanna marry you, I just…I don’t know. I’m still not sure about it.”

 

Dan bit the inside of his cheek, feeling like he was losing this battle. “Answer me this,” he eventually said. “Are you really afraid of the wedding, or are you afraid of being married again?”

 

Elise looked at him. “I’m afraid of getting divorced again.”

 

“Don’t be. If it happens one day, it’ll be because that’s what’s best at that point. But right now, I am certainly not planning on it. Are you?”

 

“No.”

 

“I want to keep you around as long as possible. Maybe that’s forever, maybe it’s not. But I love you. Right now, I love you. And I want to at least have the opportunity to love you when I’m old and senile and even clumsier than I already am.”

 

Elise laughed. “Ugh, fine!” she said. “I guess...  _ if _ you were to propose... I wouldn’t say no.”

 

“Excellent!” Dan said, suddenly hopping up with an excited energy that Elise was simultaneously startled and charmed by. “Phil!” Dan called. “If you would, please?”

 

Elise looked around, confused, as the lights dimmed and Phil - in a rented tuxedo that made him look like a waiter in a fancy restaurant - walked into the room, tossed fake rose petals all over the floor, and put a suit jacket over Dan’s pajamas. Some petals landed on Dan’s head and he laughed, dusting them off, as Phil apologized.

 

“What are you doing?” Elise cried, cracking up with laughter from a combination of nerves and delight.

 

“I’m proposing,” Dan giggled, pulling a small box out of the pocket of the jacket. “Now shush, don’t spoil the moment any worse than Phillip already has.”

 

“I said I was sorry!” Phil smiled as he backed away from the couple, taking his vantage point in the opposite corner of the room.

 

Elise shook her head, smiling with a tightly closed mouth and trying to hold back any further giggles.

 

Dan got down on one knee properly.

 

“Okay so forgive me here, some of what I was going to say in my speech, I’ve now already said when trying to convince you to agree to this at all. So I’ve got to wing it here. But Elise” -- Dan breathed out through pursed lips to calm himself -- “I love you. I don’t know how to express it any more plainly or clearly than that. Honestly, I never thought I’d ever love anyone as much as I love Mr. Lester back there, but here we a--”

 

“Okay I get it, you love Phil! Stop stalling!” Elise laughed.

 

Dan shook his head, laughing right back. “Okay, okay. God, I also never thought I’d be laughing so much with a person whose love I took so seriously.” He straightened his face and looked into Elise’s eyes. “I once told you that I felt small when I looked at you. That’s changed. I feel like a giant when I’m with you - like we’re both a couple of titans wandering the universe and actually having an effect on it. I feel like we could march through hell slaying demons together. I feel like we could ride out a tornado as long as we never let go of one another’s hands. Mostly though, I feel happy when I’m with you. When we talk, when we make videos, when I help you and you help me, it just always feels right. And I feel like if I were your husband and you were my wife, nothing would change except for all that legal bullshit we were talking about before, you know? And that’s how it should be. I want to marry someone whose presence in my life is so natural that I can’t even imagine going forward without you alongside me. So… would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

 

Dan fumbled with the box with shaking hands, taking multiple tries to open it fully. Elise didn’t seem to notice, or if she did she didn’t care. Her eyes were filled with tears while she laughed and sniffled and said “Yes! Yes, yes, absolutely! Yes.”

 

Dan put the ring on her finger while Phil wiped a tear from his eye on the other side of the room. And also stopped recording and put his phone back in his pocket.

 

“Phil, seriously?” Elise said.

 

Dan turned around. “Were you filming that? You fucking rat.”

 

“It’s just for us!” Phil defended himself. “I swear, I won’t post it unless you want me to.”

 

Dan shook his head. “You’d better not, it took me like five hundred tries to open that box, I was a complete flop just then.”

 

Elise laughed.

 

She got her phone out and took a picture of the ring on her finger. “I’ll just do this instead.”

 

“You sure?” Dan asked.

 

“The fangirl hate has mostly calmed down. I’m starting to get bored. This oughta spark it back up again.”

 

“You are a very brave woman.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Elise shrugged as she opened Instagram, “I’m trying to be.”

 

***

 

Among Elise’s family, only immediate family members were able to attend the wedding, so the very stripped-down and simple ceremony was streamed live so everyone still in America could watch. They decided they may as well make it public so fans could see the proceedings too. The chat was full of comments about Elise’s dress being beautiful, about Phil being the most handsome Best Man ever, and about Dan looking insanely happy.

 

Elise’s sister, Andie, took it upon herself to be the host of the live broadcast, carrying the camera around the small gathering they called “the reception” at the Howell/Lester home.

 

“So,” Andie said, approaching Elise for an interview. “YouTube’s power couple, eh?”

 

“Oh no,” Elise said. “You’re thinking of Dan & Phil.” Elise pointed at the duo throwing food at each other in the kitchen, laughing. Dan spotted the camera on him and waved, leaving Phil confused about who he was saying hi too. Elise could hear Dan say “You’re an idiot,” to him before pointing at the camera. Phil then inexplicably made a weird zombie face and left the kitchen. Dan looked at the camera and shook his head apologetically.

 

“See?” Elise said to the camera.

 

Andie’s next target was Phil.

 

“So how does it feel, marrying off your best friend?” she asked.

 

“It feels right. I’m so proud of him. My little guy is growing up!” he mock-sniffled and wiped a nonexistent tear.

 

Andie laughed. “Do you think Elise and Dan make a cute couple?”

 

“They’re so cute they’re like a couple of corgis playing with the most adorable plushie ever… in, like… a rainbow easter basket… paradise. Or something.” Phil broke out into giggles, realizing he’d totally lost control of his simile.

 

“You’re almost cuter with statements like that.”

 

“Yeah?” Phil smiled.

 

Andie stopped filming there.

 

***

 

Phil tapped a fork on his water glass (he didn’t want to actually have any alcohol in his system for such an important event) and addressed the group of friends and family gathered in the lounge.

 

“Uh, I guess as Dan’s Best Man I’m supposed to say something. So I’m going to do that now before I talk myself out of it.” He reached into his pocket and took out some index cards. “Dan, the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve never felt like you belonged. You always felt like this world wasn’t meant for you, like you must have a whole other species you belonged to but who existed in an alternate dimension you couldn’t ever get to. I could relate to the feeling to some degree, but I always felt like my weirdness was something I could leverage here in this world. I liked standing out, but you just felt lonely. And there was nothing I could do to fill the emotional gaps in your heart. I could make you feel reasonably comfortable, but I was never able to make you feel like you belonged.

 

“Elise felt lonely in all the same ways. When you two found each other, it was like magic. You both learned more about yourselves, and you learned how to be as much yourselves as possible. You helped each other grow, you helped each other succeed, and you are always, always helping each other laugh. To be perfectly honest, it can get obnoxious at times.”

 

The group laughed.

 

“I am so honored to be your best friend, Dan. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met - kind-hearted, clever, and excellent taste in music. I mean, look who you married after all.”

 

Elise smiled.

 

“And Elise, you’re in good hands, I assure you. He will never let you down. In ten years he’s never let me down. And he loves you with all his heart and soul. So if you feel like you belong with him as much as I know he feels he belongs with you, then you’re going to be so happy.

 

“Good luck to you both - as if you need me to wish you good luck. I look forward to watching you grow old together.” Phil lifted his glass. “To the bride and groom!”

 

Everyone lifted their glasses and repeated the toast, and the party resumed.

 

***

 

Dan and Elise gave Phil a hug as the last guests were leaving.

 

“Your speech was beautiful, Phil,” Elise said.

 

“I don’t know. I feel like it was missing some humor or something. It felt a bit heavy.”

 

“No, it was really lovely,” Dan reassured him. 

 

“Well, thanks,” Phil said bashfully.

 

“I should probably get dressed into something more comfortable before I start helping you clean up,” Elise said.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Phil said. “Andie and I are the maid of honor and best man, we’re supposed to be taking care of this stuff. You two head upstairs and get some rest.”

 

“Rest? Phil, you don’t honestly belie--” Dan was interrupted by Elise elbowing his chest.

 

“Let him keep his innocence, Dan. It’s one of his most charming qualities.”

 

“The poor idiot,” Dan said, shaking his head.

 

Andie walked into the living room with a half-full trash bag full of napkins and paper plates. “Go upstairs and have sex already, jeez! Phil and I have work to do.”

 

Elise and Dan giggled as they headed upstairs.

 

“They’re fucking disgusting,” Andie said sarcastically.

 

“Yup,” Phil agreed.

 

“It’s adorable.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Wanna get dinner with me tomorrow?”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

***

 

“Hey, I wanna show you something.”

 

“Hm?”

 

Dan pulled a small box from his bedside drawer and opened it. He immediately closed it again, and said “Do you promise not to laugh?”

 

“Why would I laugh?”

 

“You’ll know when you see it.” He opened the box again, and pulled out a business card with slightly worn edges. He handed it to Elise. “Elise Ludwig, Irrelevant Peasant,” it read.

 

She looked at it, her mouth agape, and flipped it over to see her messily handwritten e-mail address.

 

“You kept this… all this time?”

 

Dan nodded.

 

“At first I kept it just because… well, I mean, I liked you, obviously. And then later on, after you’d started getting your mental health in order, I found it behind the desk while I was cleaning the office one day and decided to hold on to it so one day I could show you how far you’ve come. And… I can’t imagine anything less true about you now than ‘irrelevant.’ Or ‘peasant,’ if I’m honest.” They shared a laugh over it for a moment.

 

“Wow. I mean… I’m just… I’m speechless.” She handed the card back to him.

 

He put it back in the box, closed it, and looked back at Elise. “I’m so glad I still have that. I used to lay in bed, look at that card, and just replay bits of our first conversation in my head over and over. I could not stop thinking about you.” He put the box back in his drawer and returned his gaze to his wife.  _ Wife _ , he thought.  _ Don’t know when I’ll get used to that. _

 

Elise smiled. “I remember that first night. I knew I’d fallen completely head over heels for you… I told Andie, and just… Did I ever tell you I was crying when you chatted with me on Facebook that night?”

 

Dan shook his head.

 

“Yeah, Andie was less than kind to me when I told her about you. Understandable, but still. So I was mad at her, feeling guilty, and missing you already all at once and that pretty much equaled needing a drink. Or… like… three.”

 

Elise smiled, and Dan took that as a cue that he could do the same. He pushed a lock of hair out of her face; still one of his favorite things to do.

 

“You’re so wonderful,” he said.

 

“So are you,” she said back. “I hope you never forget that. I love you, Dan.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

They kissed until they were too exhausted to remain awake.

  
  
  
  
  


~fin.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There ya have it, folks.
> 
> I am not ready to say goodbye to this world. I am really not. This has been my life for two months. I may go back and edit earlier chapters now that I know where everything goes. Not sure yet.
> 
> It'll be interesting to sleep regularly again. I almost forgot what that was like.


End file.
